


Blackstrap Molasses

by Neonbat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dairy farm, Dean Has a Dog, Dean is a small town boy, Dean isn't the super homophobic one don't worry, Farm situations, Hate Crime, Homophobic language by assholes, Homophobic mindsets, Homophobic small town, Kansas, M/M, Nonparanormal au, Rancher Dean Winchester, Semi realistic descriptions of Vet practices, Veterinarian Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Castiel has come back to his small Kansas hometown to work as a veterinarian while he aids in the care of his smallest siblings. An influx of new patients has him a little busy, but when he finds himself making home calls to an old acquaintance from High school his life takes a turn.Dean pulls him into his orbit, and the two must deal with the perceptions of hometown life, bigotry, and self-sabotage if they want a shot at things together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had so, soooo much fun writing this. I've wanted to write Vet!Cas and a version of a rancher!Dean for a while. 
> 
> Can we talk about pantydean's art? BECAUSE IT'S AMAZEBALLS. *squeals*

It was a warm April, enough that the windows in the small waiting area were thrown open. Occasionally, the sound of someone’s loud music blaring from their truck, or the sound of birds wafted in, but like most things in Dighton, it was quiet. Meg’s fingernails clacked on the keyboard of the ancient desktop, a small sigh brushing past her ruby red lips as she groaned and wiggled in her chair.

“Someone get Momma some coffee before I start melting into my seat,” she beseeched with big eyes. Castiel glanced up from washing his hands and let the request go unanswered. He’d just finished up putting his latest patient in the back to sleep off the effects of a sedative.

  
“Do I _look_ like your maid?” Balthazar’s voice answered her from the same room, so he must’ve gotten through restocking already. His accented voice stuck out like a sore thumb in these parts, but the dirty blond liked to brag that it made him all that more exotic. Why Balthazar had decided to move to the middle of Kansas, Castiel wasn’t sure, but the answer had ranged anywhere from ‘mob relocation’ to ‘he was really famous in England and wanted to start a new life’. So far, Castiel would put money on the ‘bad breakup’ explanation the most. Still, Balth was the only other sexually open man he knew around here, and for that Castiel was grateful.

He could see the inevitable Cheshire-grin on Meg’s lips in his mind’s eye that lead up to, “I dunno, but I wouldn’t mind seeing that ass of yours in a tutu.” Castiel sighed to himself, trying to stamp down the small grin on his lips. Sexual harassment talks never stuck with those two.

“I bet you would.” Balthazar was still wiggling his ass in Meg’s direction when the bell over the door chimed.

“Hi, welcome to- Oh! _Oh!_ Well, look who it is, little Sammy Winchester.” That level of excitement in Meg’s voice was never good, and Castiel hurried to dry off his hands and step around the doorframe to see who she was busy cooing after. The name Winchester felt familiar, but it wasn’t until he looked to the front door that the ‘why’ hit him as if his high school years had surged up and struck him.

He only remembered Sam by proxy. The then tiny younger Winchester had never been far behind his elder brother before or after school. He’d been a hell of a lot smaller then, but Castiel could still see the fiery, but kind-hearted kid in Sam now when he beamed a smile at Meg.

“Hi, Megan. Long time no see.” Sam ducked his head a little shyly as Meg stood up to hug him. Castiel suspected Meg only pulled out the PDA because Sam was a full head taller than she was and could probably pick her up with one arm if he tried. He knew Meg too well to think she was just being sweet.

One glance over at Balthazar and the wave of exasperation for his friends and coworkers reached new heights. Balthazar was never subtle when he was checking anyone out, and he certainly wasn’t now.

 Sam adjusted his grip on the leash in his hands, reaching down to thump a tricolor border collie against its shoulder. “Hey everyone. Hope it’s okay, but I was in for the weekend and Bones here got into something and cut her ear.” He pulled a sad, mopey face even though the dog looked less concerned with the state of her ear than Sam was.

“Hit a lull, come on back,” Castiel said before Balthazar could take it. The man had been hired on after another veterinarian a few miles out of town retired, and Castiel had been faced with a much larger caseload than usual. Dighton was a small town, barely boasting over a thousand people and most of the surrounding area were farmers. Castiel only worked in office clinic hours three days out of his five day work week, spending the other two trucking around the area visiting the various livestock farms. When there had been another established traveling vet, the workload had been steady, consistent, and rarely hectic. Now? Now they were still trying to swim up from the sudden shift, and he’d just been happy to be able to afford to hire someone else like Balthazar a month back. So far it had worked well, and Balthazar, while different from the vast majority of the small town, turned out to be a very capable secondary. Copious flirting aside.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief and urged Bones forward with a small hand gesture. “Thanks a lot. She just gets excited when I’m back. I might spoil her- a lot.” His nose crinkled, and he shrugged down to pick his dog up and place her on the exam table.

“I’m sure. She’s beautiful. You said you were back ‘in’? You’re going to Kansas State, right?” Castiel assumed it was where anyone that ‘went’ anywhere around here went. He’d been rare going to school all the way in Dallas.

“Yep. Computer Engineering.” Sam grinned, practically vibrating with how pleased that made him. Considering what Castiel remembered about the Winchesters, he suspected it had been a difficult road to get to a place where he could go to college. No one around these parts made money hand over first unless you were born into it, lucked out, or screwed someone over.

Castiel hummed a small sound as he began to look Bones over, “Congratulations.” He glanced over at the six-and-a-handful foot Winchester. “How old is she by the way?” he inquired, drawing back to pull on some gloves so he could examine Bone’s ear closely.

 Leaning against the wall, Sam’s lips pursed with a hum of thought. "Two. More like two and a half.” He nodded, “I remember because Dean pitched a bitchfit that I was getting her right before college.” He laughed, smoothing a broad hand back through his long dark hair.

Dean Winchester. Now that was a name he remembered. He doubted there was anyone in a two-year range of his graduating class that didn’t remember who Dean was. He’d been the kind of guy to catch eyes and then some. He’d been a pretty teen, and Castiel was sure he’d probably seen a few glances of him around town, the town was only so big, but he hadn’t spoken with the older Winchester since they were teenagers. They’d never been part of the same ‘crowd’.

“How’s your brother?” Castiel inquired, curious to know what Dean was doing now. Last he’d heard, Dean had been looking for land a few years back.

Sam’s smile grew a little softer at the edges, “He’s doing good. He bought the Miller farm a couple years back and started a dairy farm.” He snorted softly, “Never thought my brother would be a dairy farmer of all things, but he likes it. He’s good at it.” His face scrunched a little when he saw Castiel uncover the cut, face pinching at the small woeful whine from Bones.

 Castiel drew back to go to the cabinets, pulling out a few things with a backward glance. “Dairy farm?” His brow quirked. That was unexpected. Dean had been so athletic Castiel would have thought he would have gone to a school for baseballs teams, or maybe a mechanic with how much he talked about that car of his.

Sam chortled as he scraped his fingers gently over Bone’s back to keep her still while Castiel gathered bandages and some cotton balls. “Yeah, actually don’t be surprised if he calls you soon. Dr Mort used to be his vet, but since he retired, Dean’s been trying out that one out of Scott City, but Dean says he’s an ass.” The twenty-year-old snorted softly.

 Castiel echoed the sound with his own knowing one, “I don’t doubt it.” He wasn’t in the business of bad mouthing fellow veterinarians, but McLeod was a smarmy jackass. Oh, he was an excellent vet, especially when it came to canines, but his personality left _much_ to be desired.  
  
“Looks like Bones here gets to avoid sutures. I’m going to do a saline flush, put some antibacterial on it and bandage her up. I’m assuming she’s good on her shots? “ He waited for the confirmation nod before continuing, “-Alright. Then changing her bandage is easy. You can pick up some gauze pads at the pharmacy, so just watch how I wrap it.” Castiel motioned Sam closer so the younger man could watch him after he’d flushed the wound. He wrapped the bandages around carefully, pinning the injured ear under the gauze pad with careful hands. Bones looked a little funny with only one ear sticking out and the rest of the top of her head plastered down by white strips, but least it would keep the wound clean.

“Awww, Bonesy. Lookit, you.” Sam cooed down at his dog, chuckling at her less than enthused ‘whuff’. “Well, next time don’t get under the porch.” He ‘argued’ with her little paw-stamp, “Thanks, Castiel. I know it wasn’t a big cut or anything, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

It was touching to see the owners that really cared for their pets. Too many of them in the area treated them more like tools or paychecks. “I’d rather you be, too. I’d take someone coming in for a cut instead of an infection.” Castiel peeled off his gloves, setting the cotton balls and saline bottle aside for the time being to follow Sam back into the front room.

“Hey, did you go to the city or something? I remember hearing that someone from Dean’s class was going farther than Kansas City for once.” Sam asked as he tugged his wallet from his pocket, as well as a dog biscuit he’d been keeping safe from Bones til after she’d been fixed up.

A small bloom of heat colored his cheeks. Sometimes it felt embarrassing to be the one that ‘went away only to come back’. It was a dreadful cliché. “Yeah, I went to school in Dallas and lived there a little while.” He gave the bare minimum when people asked that. He’d overshared a lot when he was a teenager, and it had taken a many brutally awkward incidents for him to learn that less was more when it came to personal information.

“Dallas? Big change from around here! I thought Kansas City was jarring enough. I’d drown in Dallas!” Meg glanced up from where she was writing out a receipt, which could only mean the printer was acting up yet again. 

“Cas and Gabe came back from the wild blue yonder to grace us again.” She teased softly, seeing the small, wide-eyed look that bloomed over Sam’s face.

“ _Gabriel_ came back? I thought he’d rather drink bleach!” Gabriel was easily the most memorable of the Novak line. A wild, loud personality who had been a wicked prankster in his youth. The town still told tales of Gabriel’s ‘Senior prank week’.  It had taken a week to clean all the gelatin from the toilets, and their parents hadn’t been thrilled with the bill from the school either. ‘Running with the bullfrogs’ had been the final touch and had been received with far less enthusiasm from the school populace.

Castiel laughed low, leaning against the reception desk. “He’s a teacher now actually, grade school.” His laugh deepened at the sheer look of disbelief on Sam’s face. “Honestly. He’s engaged as well.”

Whistling low, Sam accepted a pen to scribble out his check. “That’s wild. Getting older is a real kick in the teeth.” His nose scrunched once more, “Did I just say, ‘kick in the teeth’? Ugh, I’ve been around Dean too long.” He shuddered, shoving his checkbook back into his pocket. “Thanks again. Nice to see you.” Unlike the usual lip service people gave, Castiel knew Sam’s smile was genuine. He really had been happy to see them both.

“Bye big boy, come back around next time you’re in town.” Meg winked after him with a serpent’s smile.

“I’m sure Jo would love that,” Castiel smirked once Sam had blushed and stumbled his way out.

 Meg tucked the check into the cash drawer and filed away Bones' papers with a prim sniff. “Oh, come on, a girl can look, can’t she?” She pouted, flicking strands of dark wavy hair from her cherubic face.

Balthazar sighed after Sam’s departing figure, “Well I certainly can. Young and big, can’t beat that.” His brows waggled, snickering even more at Castiel’s soft groan of irritation.

Meg snorted from her seat, “Hate to break it to you Britain, but pretty sure Samson back there is straight. Saw a picture in his wallet with him and a pretty blond, all cozy.” She enjoyed popping bubbles wherever she could, and the self-satisfied smugness in her tone at Balthazar’s disappointment added another layer of exasperation. The two were very capable employees, but their personalities were rough around the edges (as if he had room to talk).   
  
“Hate to break it to you, but people around these parts are woefully straight. Or closeted as hell.” Meg grumbled. It had taken her and her girlfriend nearly a year to come out publicly that they were dating, too afraid of Jo’s family’s reaction to do it sooner.

“That’s bullshit. It’s scientifically proven that a majority of the population has bi tendencies! That’s _science_!” Balthazar had launched onto this platform before, and a lonely article shared from the recesses of the internet hadn’t swayed Castiel yet. He’d spent far too much of his life struggling with his sexuality at the hands of others to believe that.

“I think that’s your own wishful thinking.” Castiel volleyed, adding a rare quip of his own.

Meg’s sultry brown eyes found their way to him, and he was sorely tempted to turn tail and run. “You _really_ have a leg to stand on there, big-blue?” The pet name had endured through the entirety of their dating and beyond. It had been a peculiar relationship born out of two best friends shrugging with a ‘why not’ when everyone said they should date. They ‘fit’ together, as people said. Meg had always been attracted to him, and Castiel hadn’t been averse. Not really.

 Castiel had ‘dated’ other girls throughout high school, but he’d never had chemistry with them. Sex had been vastly underwhelming on his end. He’d tried at least for his partners, but he never craved their bodies. He enjoyed the time spent with them more. He enjoyed that aspect of women or femme personalities perfectly fine, but not their bodies. Terms for various aspects of sexual and emotional expression either hadn’t existed back then, or he’d been woefully unaware of them.

Which, of course, left Meg and his relationship fizzling out with an agreement to stay friends as they’d always been. Meg enjoyed her partners to have fire and passion, and while her sex drive wasn’t as voracious as she led people to believe, it had been a big enough issue that they’d agreed to break cleanly. A year after that, Castiel had finally concluded that he was very much attracted to men after a lifetime of putting blinders on to the idea entirely. At twenty-eight, Castiel didn’t have as much experience with that realization as he’d like, but after moving back home, there had been no opportunity. The ‘LGBT’ scene here was nearly nonexistent, in fact, he was sure the only people ‘out and proud’ were their little pod in the room.  Sometimes the loneliness of that struck him, but he hadn’t thought about dating since the move. Maybe eventually, if minds changed, but for now he was content to focus on his work.

Balthazar groaned dramatically as his long arms draped around Castiel’s shoulders, tugging him closer despite his grunt of protest. “I’m going to grow old here in this backwater alone. I’m just going to give in and get cows and cats like everyone else. Least something can eat me when the inevitable cirrhosis sets in.” Balthazar loudly lamented, regularly complaining that the only thing to do around here was drink.

“You two could always bone.” Meg suggested ‘sweetly’, her devilish smile splitting her chubby-cheeked face.

Castiel’s eyes turned to meet Balthazar’s, and they considered one another. Objectively, Balthazar was a handsome man. A bit of scruff, dirty blonde hair that was always styled well, and he had impeccable style outside of the work scrubs. Yet-

The two shuddered, and Balthazar blessedly parted from his shoulders. “While I think you’re cute in all the right places, never.” The assistant vet snorted.

“Likewise,” Castiel deadpanned. Their personalities couldn’t be more opposite, and while teen magazines liked to claim, ‘opposites attract’, while Castiel had discovered in life that was hardly ever the case.

“You two are no fun. How are we supposed to have workplace scandals if you don’t play along?” Meg resigned herself back to fiddling with the printer, turning her displeasure on poking buttons until the ancient machine sluggishly whirred back to life.

Smirking to himself, Castiel meandered towards the back to check in on Mrs Gallahan’s Pekinese to see if the sedatives had worn off yet. It didn’t take long for the quiet to reign once more, the brief blip of excitement getting lost in the languid tide of small-town existence.


	2. Chapter 2

The muscles in his neck pulled uncomfortably from being bent over an operating table the day before. A steady ache of tension built, and the pain pills were taking their sweet time kicking in, as usual. One of these days he’d cave in and just go to the only chiropractor in town, but Gabriel warned that Dr ‘Zeke’ (Gabriel had the habit of being overly familiar with everyone, and Castiel hadn’t yet learned the man’s last name) was exceptionally attractive. As frustrating as he was, Gabriel tended to have a good eye. The description of ‘tall’, ‘muscular’, and ‘strong jaw’ had a recipe for danger, and Castiel didn’t want to risk making an idiot out of himself while the chiropractor was manipulating his body in half.

 

He’d been out for a little while, long enough where he felt he should be more comfortable with himself, but he wasn’t in the least. He could count his male sexual partners on one hand, and even if he’d very much enjoyed the limited experimentation he’d had, it was a hard world to navigate now that he was in quintessential small-farming-town-USA.  

 

Sighing, he reached his arms above his head to grasp the top of the doorframe with a low grunt. The phone rang on Meg’s desk, and she hurried to shove the rest of her donut into her mouth instead of just setting it aside until after the call. Chuckling, he arched forward while keeping his feet planted on the floor, letting his body bow and force the tension down from his upper body.

 

“Hello? - “His back popped the same moment Meg began talking, and a low groan of relief shuddered from his chest before he could stifle it.

 

“-Yep. This is Novak’s office, Meg speakin- Oh! Hey Dean, long time no see Freckles.” She gave Castiel a pointed look that said his lapse into near pornographic relief had been loud enough to hear over the phone. He dropped from the frame fast enough for his nails to scrape a bit of the old paint from the doorframe, heat flooding his cheeks.

 

 Meg hummed quiet noises, flipping out a notebook to jot down notes.” Gotcha. He’ll be out ASAP. Come ‘round sometime. Got to see your giant of a baby brother last week, need to complete the set.” She possessed an ease with people Castiel was constantly envious of. He’d never seen her be embarrassed, self-conscious, or anything but unapologetically herself in the years he’d known her, even in high school. She’d been a little hotter tempered then, but confident enough to own her skin in a way few girls her age had, or still did.    


  
She hung up, lips spreading into a mischievous smile. “Get your gear packed, lover boy; the high-school stud needs you out on his farm. Got a cow showing signs of milk fever. He’s got her in the barn, but you should probably fast-track it.” He wished she wouldn’t call him that, but as his ex-girlfriend, she insisted she carried the rights. He was dubious on that rule of ex-courtship.

 

He let it slide in favor of hurrying into the back to pull on the blue coveralls he wore to farm jobs, not bothering to zip it just yet as he moved around to fetch the items he’d need. Balthazar wasn’t due in for another half hour, but Meg had enough know-how to deal with things until he could arrive. People in these parts knew how the vet offices operated, and unfortunately, sometimes they were spread thin. Many people ended up learning how to largely take care of things themselves, saving a vet-visit for bigger jobs. Most vaccinations on the non-organic farms took place on the farms themselves, and he was only called out for the bigger tasks such as this one. There were a handful of other vets nearby, but they were spread thin enough not to overlap.

 

  
 He loaded his kit into the back of his old Chevy Silverado, forcing down the latch over the bed of his trunk with a bit of difficulty. He needed to get the eighties-model truck to the shop, but it was just another thing on his list of ‘to-dos’, just like organizing the mud-room at the back of his house that was still stacked from canning-season and repairing the split banister on the front porch.

 

Going by the directions Meg wrote down, it would take him about fifteen minutes out of town before he got to the Winchester dairy farm, enough time to enjoy the rolled-down windows and the quiet serenity of the drive. In his youth, he hadn’t quite gotten the allure a long, solitary drive could have. He’d already been such a lonely kid that even more isolation would have been torture, not to mention he would have had to borrow one of his older brother’s cars. He’d bought his truck, which Gabriel called ‘Peppermint’ due to the red body and white stripe painted down the sides, the first year he’d moved away for college. He’d worked hard shifts unloading and stocking a warehouse at night after classes to afford this truck, and he didn’t care if it was dated or ‘tacky’. It had been the first big purchase he’d ever made that was _his_ and not something to be shared. He loved his siblings, he did, but there had been so many hand-me-downs and recycling it had been hard to have any claim of possessions. Not that their parents had ever allowed them much. God hated greed. It was one of his mother’s favorite reminders.

 

The lapse into introspection fizzled out when he turned down the small gravel road, rolling under a newish looking wood sign with ‘Winchester’ wood burned into the polished wood. The sign was— different. Old-timey. Someone had put in a lot of work into a sign that was reminiscent of old westerns.

 

He figured it was the same person that had also been hard at work fixing and repairing up the old Miller place. Castiel had been out this way once with his elder brother on a ‘witnessing’ round at the bidding of their parents. They’d go around to lonely seniors and read the Bible and sit with them for a while, and Mr Miller had wanted nothing to do with it. He’d chased them off with his cane a few minutes in, spitting at them that God had never done a damn thing when his wife had been stuck in bed slowly succumbing to lung cancer.

 

 

The farm and the house were neglected even then. Paint flaked from the deck and barns, the wallpaper cracked and yellowed inside. It had been a mess. Looking at it now, Castiel would have thought it was a different place entirely. The splintering porch was replaced and painted a bright robin egg blue, a contrast to the eggshell white house. The shutters were a deeper blue, as well as the roof. It was a bold choice, considering the dust, rain, and weather would no doubt wreak havoc on such a paint job. One would have to be handy with a power-washer to keep it looking prim.

 

The old barns in the back had been stripped or rebuilt entirely. The old-style closed dairy barns were opened up into spacious compost barns, the smell of dry compost evident even from half a field over. Around to the side of the two-story house was a garden where he could see Bones rooting around near a tomato vein, fur wet but a new bandage in place over what he suspected nearly-healed ear.

 

As he pulled up into the driveway in front of the house, the screen door opened, and Dean Winchester walked out. The man was pretty as a teen, but he was downright gorgeous in his twenties. And worse (better?), he was partially shirtless. Dean was busy buttoning up a fresh shirt, a liberal glimpse of his tanned, freckled chest visible for long enough that Castiel had to make a physical effort to direct his eyes north.

 

Dean must have caught him looking, and he laughed when he came close. “Bones decided to trip me up when I was out in the field, too early to get caked in mud.” He gestured down to his still-dirty jeans, “Least everywhere.” He chuckled, and god help him, Dean had _dimples_. “Nice to see you, man! Been what, since your senior year?” Dean reached out to clasp his hand in a firm shake, seemingly content to leave his shirt buttoning task short by three buttons.

 

Castiel swallowed, wanting to keep his eyes on Dean’s face but finding that almost as difficult. “Yes, must be, I can’t believe you’d remember that.” They were two years apart in age, and they hadn’t exactly been a part of the same group in high school.

 

“Ah come on, who could forget the guy that won the science fair with bees.” Dean teased softly, bringing a fresh blush to Castiel’s cheeks. His junior year he’d done an impressive research project on the area’s bees and beat out the lead contender, much to Bela Talbot’s extreme disdain. She’d carried that grudge through their senior year.

 

“And I still have those bee’s descendants.” Castiel had no idea why he felt the need to say that, but he was floundering a little.  Call it lingering high-school jitters, but he could count the conversations he’d had with the Winchester on one hand, much like his sad dating life. He didn’t want those two things to have _any_ connection between themselves in his mind.

 

To his surprise, Dean’s face lit up. “Really? Wow, that’s awesome! If anyone could do it, the beekeeping thing, it'd be you.” He reached to slap his hand against his shoulder enough that Castiel could feel the impact through his core. In two minutes, Dean had managed to make him feel like they weren’t from completely different worlds like they’d been as children.

 

Castiel cleared his throat, struggling to get back on track.” You say one of your cows is showing signs of hypocalcaemia?”

 

Dean’s face sobered a little, and he bobbed his head, the sunlight warming the disheveled sprigs of his short brown hair. The tips of it had faded nearly blond from work outside. It was a good look on him. “Yeah, back this way. I have her set up in the second barn; we can drive over in your truck, so you don’t have to lug things across the field.” He’d already started to the truck, pulling himself into the passenger side seat while Castiel fished for his keys against out of his pocket.

 

“Nice truck. Eighty-one?”

 

Castiel glanced where Dean was smoothing his fingers over the dash. “Eighty, and thanks.” He’d seen a big pick-up truck in the drive, but that left one thing to question. “That’s right; you liked cars, didn’t you?” He remembered overhearing Dean gush about one car, in particular, all the time in the lunch room. The same car that sometimes drove Dean and Sam to school, a rare occurrence, but enough that it had gotten the attention of the small school.

 

The beaming grin returned to Dean’s cheeks.” Damn straight. My baby still looks mint- Oh, guess you wouldn’t know, huh? The Impala is mine now.” Of course, it was. Dean always said his father planned to pass the car to him on Dean’s eighteenth birthday. Castiel left town before the Winchester would have come of age. “I can’t believe _you_ remembered that.”

 

Castiel’s eyes flicked off from Dean’s teasing eyes as he parked behind a four-wheeler pulled up next to the second barn. “You talked about it enough.” He shot back, a small smile curling his pale pink lips.

 

This got a nearly full laugh out of the dairy farmer. ” Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” Castiel might be reading too much into it, but there was a note of sadness in that. The memory was bitter-sweet.

 

“Anything I can carry?”

 

“If you don’t mind.” Castiel rounded to the back of his truck, hefting the truck-bed cover open and flicking down the tailgate. “Here.” He passed off one bag that contained what he’d need for the venipuncture and a few other possibilities. He carried another bag with the supplies he’d need for the ‘milk-fever’, hip-checking the tailgate back up afterward.

 

“Impressive setup. Organic?” He inquired as he followed Dean into the open compost barn, the sounds of the few cows that were sequestered in the barn for various reasons coming to him along with the scent of them. Horses, cows, goats, they were familiar smells to him from growing up. Livestock had been few and far between in the city, where the smell of pollution and corner-eateries were the norm. He’d missed the natural feeling of a farm, even if it wasn’t the most pleasant of smells. It was ‘home’ in a way.

 

Dean adjusted his hold on the bag, so he could reach and ghost his fingers against the nose of a pregnant cow. “Yeah, at first, I wasn’t going to bother, but I crunched the numbers and— hell if you compare the farms around here that do bulk milk with the smaller organic farms? I might have been shit at school, but even I can work those numbers. I just expanded out the pastures and want to put in a processing barn. Sam said you went to the city, right? All those assholes pay top dollar for organic bullshit. Thinking yogurt or something.” 

 

Dean lead him back to a middle stall where a large cow sat laboriously in her divot of compost.  “Here she is, Nelly. Noticed her this mornin’ acting a bit off but she had a rough birth, so I thought maybe she was still feeling that. Then a few hours later she started tremblin’ and not wanting to get up, so I knew.” He sniffed with a frown, displeased with himself that he’d waited so long.

 

“You caught it fast,” Castiel assured, hefting himself over the stall to plop down beside the distressed cow. “Help me— Yeah, just got to get her head- “Between the two of them, they managed to coax the poor thing through the stall slot. “-tie the rope through the stall, don’t worry about the angle, her neck is pretty flexible. See? Good, tie it off tight.” Castiel released his hold once the cow’s head was secure.

 

He took a few minutes to take her vitals, smoothing his hands over her large body to feel the strain in her muscles, and her pulse. “I’m going to draw some blood before I start an IV, just in case.” He said back at Dean, reaching for the bag he’d carried in. In short order, he’d gotten the vacutainer tube and a pair of gloves on. He was quick, piercing the vein in her tail and drawing the blood in short order. The vial was deposited into a clear container in his bag and set aside for testing later.

“How’s her calf?” Castiel asked as he put the bags back over on Dean’s side of the stall and climbed over so he could access her neck.

 

Dean watched his descent, enough that Castiel was aware of the man’s eyes on him. He glanced down at himself, wondering if he’d already got ‘cow’ on him, or maybe something else. As usual, he’d been careful and hadn’t yet got blood or anything on him. “Uh— She’s good. Bit small but strong. She’s just-“He pointed to the stall next to the cow, “Figured until Nelly here is ship-shape, Nina can take a chill-pill.”

 

Castiel’s brow raised as he fished out the IV bag of calcium and a cannula. ” You name them?” That was a little unusual. Some farmers did, his family always had, but they hadn’t been raising enough to lose track. His parents had discouraged it, but kids would be kids.

 

To his surprise, Dean’s cheeks pinked. ” Yeah, sometimes I get them confused until I can get their numbers to their names.” His boots scuffed against the compost, another small sniff hitching his breath as he tried his best to act aloof.

 

Smiling to himself, Castiel pressed his thumb to the base of the jugular to let it fill and plump a little for a good visual. “Nelly huh? Well, I’ll have her up and back with ‘Nina’ soon.” Of course, it was almost time for the calf to be separated from the cow anyway, but it was the thought that counted in this instance.

 

The needle went in easy, and he attached the IV bag a moment later.

 

He was conscious of Dean leaning over him, peering at him while he tilted the bag down towards the floor to see if the line back-filled with blood. Satisfied that the needle was in the right position, he held the bag back up.

 

“You run your own office? That’s pretty kick-ass. You aren’t that much older than I am.” Dean said over his shoulder, a small grimace on his face as he noted the blood splattered over Castiel’s gloves and knee from the initial puncture.

 

“I lucked out, really. I started working under Dr Joshua Fields, and he ended up taking an early retirement. He didn’t have anyone else to pass off the office to, so he gave it to me.” Castiel had felt beyond lucky to be able to establish himself at twenty-seven, nearly two years after graduating. He’d busted his ass to rush through his pre-requisites to get to veterinarian school, and his early graduation had born unexpected fruit.

 

Dean whistled low, the sound skittering up his back from how close the Winchester had drawn to him. Castiel suppressed a shiver, cheeks pinking as he focused on watching the IV of calcium and saline slowly empty from the bag.  “Damn, that’s awesome man.” Dean’s body shifted. Castiel back glanced in time to see the other man abort his attempt at smacking Castiel’s shoulder again by awkwardly shoving his hand in his pocket. That was…unexpected. Why was Dean nervous around _him_?

 

“I’d say you owning your own dairy farm at – what, twenty-five? Twenty-six? _That’s_ impressive.” Castiel tossed back, tilting the bag back down to take note of the position once more.

 

Dean huffed a small sound between a chuckle and a snort. “Twenty-six, and hardly. Kind of like you, things just, slotted into place a bit. With the money from the old man’s life insurance— “Dean’s voice lost a little of its ease for a moment, the sentence a minefield that Castiel decided not to comment on. He hadn’t been aware of John Winchester’s passing. “—Some from my old job, and an ‘investment’ Bobby won’t let me pay back, I had enough to scrape together to buy this place.” Dean shrugged, the warmth in his voice returning when he spoke of whoever this ‘Bobby’ was.

 

“Bobby?” Castiel inquired as unobtrusively as possible. As far as he knew the Winchester pod had consisted of only three.

 

Dean stroked his hand over Nelly’s forehead,” Family friend. ‘Bout the only friend the old man had left. He’s a good guy, runs a scrap yard out of Sioux Falls. Like an uncle to Sam and me over the years.”

 

Humming a quiet sound that said he was listening, Castiel gave the last remains of the bag a gentle squeeze to fully empty it. “The farm looks great Dean, truly. It looks— very different from before.” He sealed off the trash in a clear bag and stood, grimacing at the pop his knees gave when he did so.

 

Dean laughed as he made to untie Nelly’s head from the stall, too-green eyes sparkling.” You and me both, man. Sam keeps saying I should go to that Doc in town, but I dunno. The idea of a dude karate-chopping my trick knee seems like a one-way ticket to me getting thrown in lock up for the night for clocking a doctor.”

 

It was easy to return Dean’s laughter when the man’s face scrunched like that as he was talking.  In high school, Dean had been surrounded by a group of friends, all easy laughing and the kind of people that stood out. The Winchester had been a stark contrast to how Castiel had experienced his teenage years, where Meg and Kevin had been the only two he could claim to be ‘friends’ if only because their odd circumstances had stuck them together. They all had weirdly religious or overbearing parents that they handled in different ways. Meg by rebelling, Kevin by falling in line, and Castiel by trying to fly under the radar as much as he could of his siblings.

 

 Pulling off his soiled gloves and putting them into the bag as well, “Nelly here should be good soon, her heart rate is holding steady, and her eyes are looking more alert. I’ll check the calf while I’m here. Anything else that needs doing while I’m out here?”

 

“I have two calves that need fixin’ before I ship them off if you have the time.”

 

“It won’t take a few minutes each; I have time. “Castiel assured as he stepped over to the next stall and hopped over to inspect the recently birthed calf. “Nina was it? She looks good, small like you said, but healthy.” He let his fingers dust against her soft nose, chuckling when the calf’s tongue peaked past her muzzle against his hand. The calf gave a low whining moo when her exploration didn’t produce the desired search for food, and she decided to root itself against the stall bars next to her mother.

 

“Other two are down this way.” Dean helped him gather up his stuff to take back to his truck so Castiel could fetch the new set of tools he’d need to castrate the calves.

 

A streak of black and white by his leg drew his eyes while Castiel changed out his kit, Bones knocking against his leg to snuffle in interest at his boots. Dean walked up to swat her gently away, smirking as she took back off towards the barn.

 

“Damn dog is too smart for her own good, probably knows what you’re about to do.” Dean shook his head, continuing after Castiel quirked a brow. “Uh, Dr Mort used to uh— chuck the... left overs? I guess you could call ‘em that, to her.” He shuddered in revulsion.

 

 Shutting his kit, Castiel huffed a small laugh at Dean’s discomfort.”Ah, well I’m sorry to disappoint by I use a different method than Dr Mort. Saves the calves some discomfort, and no blood.” He went into his kit long enough to halfway pull out a pair an instrument that looked like a pair of pliers with flat metal spades that clamped together at the end.

“A burdizzo? Yikes, no I mean, yeah I’ve heard of ‘em, never seen ‘em in use before.” Dean set out to lead Castiel back into the barn and to the two bull calves that needed castrating. “It all gives me the heeby-geebies but I can’t decide if the blood is worse, or-“He swallowed, eyeing Castiel as he began to set up.”-the crunching.”

 

 Castiel hid another chuckle as he set to work with the help of the dairy farmer. They wrangled one of the calves down so Castiel could get him into position, and he started in.

 

Dean, however, didn’t favor stretches of silence, even if Castiel thought that most would be averse to chatting while he was busy clamping a bull calf’s testicles to the point of collapsing the spermatic cords. “So, you went to the big city. That must have been different from all this. I’m nervous enough about Sammy being off in Kansas City. Bet Dallas was somethin’.” His voice hitched when the first clamp went down, and a small wet crunch sounded in the stall.

 

 Smirking softly, Castiel held his grip to let the clamps stay closed less the calf hemorrhage. “It was different, but in a good way. More things to do, things to see… More open mindsets, not much, but more than around here.”

 

“Open mindsets?” Dean shifted, adjusting his grip on the calf so he could look at Castiel. Maybe it was the discomfort of seeing the bull being castrated, but Dean looked a bit skittish.

 

 His grip loosened, and he positioned the clamp a little to the left for the next cord. ” More LGBT individuals, more understanding. It wasn’t nearly as oppressive as it is here.” Now Castiel knew he wasn’t imagining things. As soon as he said ‘LGBT’ Dean’s face had morphed through a handful of expression and couldn’t decide on any of them. He’d seen similar before when people disliked ‘his lifestyle’ but didn’t want to offend him outright. They usually just waited to gossip behind his back after he left.

 

He barely knew Dean, but even still, it was a disappointing reaction.

 

“O-oh… Yeah, I guess it would be. All them people.” Dean shrugged dismissively. He hadn’t even flinched on the second crunch, too wrapped up in the uncomfortable conversation to notice.

 

Castiel let it drop, knowing when to stuff it down before he could draw out anything truly regretful from the man. A little pressing is all it took for those ‘types’ to finally come out and say something like ‘I don’t like gays’, or ‘Don’t you think you’re going to hell?’. He’d heard many variations on the later out of his family since he’d come out, usually screamed at him.

 

It didn’t take much longer to finish up with the other calf, and Dean walked him back towards his truck. “Guess I’ll need to be seeing when you can come back out.” The rancher kicked off a bit of mud from his boots, but he didn’t venture back close to Castiel’s truck, opting to remain at the barns to help some of the hired hands milling around.

 

“Next Tuesday? Mr Fitzgerald’s alpaca farm has me booked up all Friday- “And gods above, did Garth Fitzgerald know how to talk, which was usually why his attendance days took all damn day. ”-, and I’ll be in surgery partly on Saturday, and all Monday.”

 

Dean smiled at the mention of the alpaca-farmer a few miles off.” Yeah, I know Garth alright, and Tuesday will be just fine. See you then, Cas. Thanks again.” That smile of the Winchester’s was dangerous. It stirred butterflies in his stomach and warning bells that straight men like Dean didn’t usually take kindly to people like him looking at them with… interest.

 

Without another word Castiel bobbed his head and hopped back into his truck, not trusting himself after hearing his nickname said so effortlessly on Dean’s lips. He needed to get out of the sunny, idyllic ease of the Winchester dairy farm and back to a place where he could get his head on right. His office was small, needed updating in the worst of ways, and came stock with two of the most annoying employees on the planet, but it’s what he knew. What he needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write
> 
> And of course go to: https://space-wolf.com/ for beautiful art!


	3. Chapter 3

‘The Bunker’ was in prime form as usual for a Friday. Part local watering hole, part local joke as legend had it thirty years ago when a small tornado touched down and knocked out most the street, only the Bunker had remained. It needed a new coat of paint, and the old bench booths dug at the back of your knees when the night wore on, but as anyone would say ‘Where else you going to go?’.

 Gabriel was fussing with a damp cocktail napkin, “I’m freakin’ out a bit, Cassy.” Castiel was doing his best to ignore Balthazar’s constant snickering every time his elder brother called him ‘Cassy’. It was thanks to his pint-sized sibling that Balthazar had picked it up, and now he was hearing it from almost everyone. “Do you think I could do it? The whole... kid thing?”

 

Gabriel’s whiskey-colored eyes were doing that thing that could rival Mrs Colt’s basset hound. If anyone had told him he’d be having the ‘am I ready to be a father’ talk with _Gabriel_ a few years ago, Cas would have full-on snort-laughed in their face. Then again, no one had ever expected Gabriel to marry the strong-willed Kali, nor had they expected her to follow Gabriel back when they’d returned to their hometown. Kali didn’t take any of the ignorant flack that was in abundance around here. Castiel admired that about her.

 

Castiel set down his half-nursed beer, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Gabriel. You’ve already done it, why would this be any different? Without you, we’d have all been—” he trailed. Gabriel knew what he meant. Lucifer ending up the way he had, Michael being the overly controlling megalomaniac as he was, and Anna walking away as soon as she could, it was a miracle Gabriel had found his way back from his more reckless youth. Their parents had never been present enough to ‘raise’ them. They’d been too busy in the church, only ‘parenting’ when it was to yell and reinforce rules. Well, their mother yelled. Their father never had much to say at all. Without Gabriel’s attention, he’d have fallen through the cracks more than he already had.

 

“Oh god, Castiel, you’re going to make him cry.” Jo groaned from her side of the booth, hand tightening around Meg’s waist as her girlfriend cooed.

 

“I am not!” Gabriel sniffed, slamming back the rest of his appletini. He’d shown the bartender how to make them months ago. Castiel had a feeling the apple-pucker behind the bar was only ever used when Gabriel came in. The usual drink of choice here was beer and the occasional glass of cheap wine. 

 

From the added chair at the end of the booth Balthazar popped to his feet, “On that stomach-churningly sweet note, I’m going for a refill. Someone help me carry bottles.” He was tugging at Meg’s arm before he’d even finished, never wavering even facing Jo’s level stare at having to give up her girlfriend for a few minutes.

 

Castiel rotated the dark bottle in his hands, leaning to gently bump Gabriel with his shoulders. “I am happy for you though, you’ll make a good father Gabriel. I promise. You’ll spoil them rotten and Kali will yell at you the entire time but let you do it anyway.” Kali made a good show of trying to straighten Gabriel’s nature up, but she caved every time, too in love with the quirkier parts of her husband’s personality to ever change him. 

 

“Thanks Cassy. I haven’t told Samandriel or Muriel yet. I figured I’d wait til—you know—after I knock up my wife.” Gabriel’s brows waggled, instantly killing the soft mood that had settled over the table with a collective groan of revulsion.

 

“The last thing I want to think about is your hobbit-ass writhing on top of Kali.” Jo smirked, snorting when Gabriel kicked under the table to miss her shin. ” You sure you’re a teacher and not one of your toddlers?”

 

“Cas, she’s picking on me!”

 

“Would you both- “Castiel’s exasperation was short lived after a peel of mean-spirited laughter tugged his attention. He turned in the booth, peering back towards where Balthazar and Meg had walked off to fetch more beers. “-Shit.”

 

It didn’t usually happen, but sometimes, assholes would be assholes.

 

There were two men hanging around the bar, beer bottles stacked against the bar next to them, a normal practice to keep track of how much someone was drinking in a night. Not that Castiel thought these two cared, and there were too many bottles left standing to belong to them alone when they still had the focus to be jerks.

 

“All I’m saying is when you’re tired of sniffing around Harvelle, hit me up… For that matter, she can come too. Show you what you’re missing.” One of the men jeered, foot raising to hook his heel on one of the barstool supports, widening his stance to put more focus on his crotch. Meg looked instantly revolted.

 

“Believe me, _Roy_ , if me and my girl are looking for something phallic to enjoy, we’ll buy it online. That way it’ll measure up.” She sneered, red lips twisting into a defiant smirk at the bloom of hot anger that deepened over Roy’s face.

 

Castiel stood, motioning for Gabriel and Jo to remain as he went to go flank his friends, just in case things went to hell fast. So far these kinds of altercations ended up in a mutual yelling of ‘go fuck yourself’, but the potential for violence was always there.  “Everything alright?”

 

Balthazar scoffed towards the men as he passed off a beer for Castiel to hold once the bartender wondered back over with their order. “These _gentlemen_ -“He managed to make it sound like an insult, “-here were trying to pick up Meg. I assume the alcohol must be impairing their judgment or else they’d realize she knows how to castrate and has the tools.”

 

“Oh, we know alright, must explain Novak.” Walt, Roy’s ever-present best friend, jerked his head towards Castiel, “That’s how you became the town fag right? Until you imported this one.” He snickered, eyeing Balthazar with open contempt.

 

Castiel was prepared to hear the usual insults when he went out, truly. He was used to it even before he came out but hearing them turn their ignorance on his two best friends was more than he could take. His fingers tightened around the beer-bottle in the same motion he took a step towards the sniggering pair, too wrapped up in their own ‘burn’ to notice the shift in the air around the trio.

 

Another pair of footsteps approached them, too heavy to be Jo or Gabriel come to back them up. “The hell are you guys doing now?” An all too familiar voice stalled Castiel from a rash decision. Dean was scrubbing his freshly-washed hands on his jeans while frowning at Walt and Roy, glancing between them all like it would divine the situation before any sort of explanation could be offered.

 

“Don’t get your panties in a wad Winchester, just reminding the fruits here what’s expected out of _normal_ people.” Roy snorted maliciously, his lighter mean-spirited tone darkening to something that made Castiel’s stomach turn. He’d heard the like out of his Uncles more time than one. Right around the time they cut off all contact with Uncle Zachariah after Gabriel had nearly jumped him for such a comment.

 

A quiet panic bloomed in the Winchester’s bright eyes, just now realizing the gravity of the situation he’d walked into. Roy and Walt were expecting back up, and Castiel half expected it as well. Dean hadn’t looked comfortable when he’d mentioned his life in Dallas, but he’d hoped the man wasn’t so small minded.

 

“Weren’t we here to drink?” Dean grumbled, casting his eyes to the floor under the intensity of five sets of eyes on him, two impatient, and three braced for the worst. “It’s a bar, not church.” He motioned half-heartedly to the bartender for another beer. ”Ain’t like you been in years anyway, Walt.” The call-out of Walt’s church attendance was enough to pull both the homophobes into Dean’s orbit and Castiel was going to capitalize on it before things could get more out of hand.

 

He reached to grab another beer from the cluster in front of Balthazar on the floor and jerk his head back towards the table.

 

“Wankers. Is it the nineteen-fifties?” Balthazar’s fussing followed them all the way to the table. Castiel spared a moment as he let Meg edge into the booth next to Jo to look back towards the bar, meeting the too-green eyes that had been turned his way while Walt and Roy were locked in a drunken argument. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at in Dean’s eyes, too angered by the exchange to dwell before both their eyes were ripped back to their friends and the moment was broken.

 

By the time Tuesday rolled around the sting of the weekend had lessened and faded into the recesses of his mind like all the other encounters over the years. His mind meandered half-formed indignancies and settled on mulling over Dean’s reaction at the bar. Back in school Dean had been _spirited_ ; Castiel remembered hearing the then sophomore punch out a senior in the parking lot for picking on Jo. That Dean wouldn’t protect one of his best friend’s girlfriend was strange to him. Unless Dean didn’t know, and then that would be a whole different story. Jo wasn’t secretive about dating Meg, not now at least, but if they didn’t hang out like they used to…

 

Which was all speculation he should keep himself from. He was becoming like Gabriel the older he got just from this nothing-ever-happens town. The only entertainment was the Bunker, the bowling alley, and markets that took place on the weekend for people to sell their second-hand junk. Gossip was in ample supply to fill the gaps.

 

Dean’s small ranch came into view and with it an unsettled flutter. He didn’t want to go back out here after Friday night, not when he wasn’t sure if Dean was secretly homophobic. It was nearly unavoidable out here to get those outspoken about his’ lifestyle’, but somehow it always hurt more when friendly people suddenly started ignoring him than just some loud bigot screaming at him. Dean was so effortlessly chatty that to lose it would be more unsettling than usual.

 

Bones leaped up from her lounging sunspot on the porch, long tail wagging despite the loud barking. She waited until his truck stilled before she launched down the short flight of steps, assailing his legs with hard thumps from her swaying tail.

“Good morning Bones, got your bandage off? Let me see.” He knelt, taking her wiggling head in his hand to peer at her once-injured ear. “Looks good. You were an excellent patient.” He praised with a few soothing pats and was met with pleased licks on his wrist.

 

Work boots crunched the gravel ahead of him, “Dog whisperer, Doc? Or you expecting her to talk back?” Castiel looked up to see the soft smile of Victor Henriksen. He was off duty in civilian clothes, which explained why Castiel saw his red pickup truck instead of his patrol car. He carried a jug of milk in each hand, and a sack dangled from his left.

 

“When they start talking back is when I know I need a vacation.” Castiel chuckled, straightening up to hurry forward so he could open Victor’s door for him.

 

Victor leaned in to deposit his haul, setting the bag with an egg carton down on the immaculate floorboard. “Thanks. Doing rounds? If you’re going to anywhere nearby be sure and avoid 200, feed truck overturned out there and it’s a mess. Don’t expect it to get cleaned up till the morning.”

 

“Oh? Thank you. I might be going out to Fitzgerald’s so I’ll be sure to take 180.” Castiel liked Henriksen. He was a no-nonsense type of man when it came to his job, but he was amiable outside of uniform. His father had been kinder than he ought to have been when Lucifer started getting off the rails, and it was nice to see Victor had followed in his footsteps.

 

“Dean’s out back if you’re looking for him. Chicken coop.” Victor gestured briefly to the floorboard where his eggs sat, “Oh— tell that brother of yours to slow down. He might teach my kid but I’ll still ticket him.” He flashed a white-toothed smile and held up a hand to Castiel’s farewell before slipping into the driver’s seat.

 

Castiel started towards the back of the house with Bones in tow, her side nearly plastered against his legs as he went. It made him want a dog, but he doubted Honeybee would like that much. The cat barely tolerated him living in the house, let alone a dog. The finicky cat had been his companion since he’d moved to Dallas, and she had liked the move even less than he did.

 

Behind the tall wire fence, a chorus of clucking filled the air, fat white and brown hens milling around the alfalfa hay. A small grunt drew his eyes to the henhouse. Dean’s legs straddled roof of the toolshed sized coop, nails perched between his plump lips and hammer held between his hand and the roof. Several roofing slats had slid down to the ground, earning the ire of the frustrated rancher torn between letting the remaining slats he held go from his left hand, or the hammer in the right.

 

“Do you need assistance?” Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest of decisions to speak out of the blue. Castiel grimaced as the rest of the slats went skittering down the roofing and onto the dirt and hay below when Dean startled. “Sorry, I thought you would have heard my truck.” He eased into the coop, shooing Bones off from the door, unsure if she was allowed in.

 

Now that he had a hand free, Dean spat the nails into his palm, “Can’t hear a damn thing over the girls here.” He chuckled, looking down over his brood. He didn’t have them for commercial gain, too much work went into that, but for his own purposes. That and bribing family and friends with fresh eggs. “Thought it was just Victor.”

 

Castiel bent to gather up the slats, reaching up to pass off the dull brown squares. Dean’s left leg and side were just above his line of sight, jeans stretched taught from being straddled over the wide-angle roofing. Castiel’s cheeks heated, recalling the earlier trepidation of returning here in the first place. He couldn’t get caught looking when he didn’t even know if Dean was a quieter version of his jerk friends.

 

“Thanks. Sorry, I’ll be right now just need to patch up a few more. If you want to get started you know where the barns are.” Dean’s voice was friendly enough, but he barely glanced at him the entire conversation.

 

 Castiel bobbed his head, lingering only a moment longer to see if Dean would look at him at all. Disappointed, he turned to make his way back to his truck and to then to barns.

 

By the time Dean joined him in the barns Castiel had already applied the dehorning paste to two calves and was working on the third. “Damn, you’re fast.” He whistled low, peering to eye one of the calves. "Oh you— what’s the guck? You don’t, you know, use the poker?”

 

Castiel’s face scrunched as he looked up from where he was applying a paste the color of rust onto one of the horn buds. “No, I know that method is technically safe, but I always found it unsavory. Even numbed, it looks dreadful.” He finished up on the third and stripped off his gloves, tossing them in his bag with the few supplies he’d needed for the debudding.

  
  
Dean still wasn’t looking at him, not completely. “Dean?”

 

Dean blinked his eyes from the calf, reluctantly moving to meet Castiel’s. “Yep?”

 

He wanted to ask Dean what his deal was, or if he was going to do this all day, but cowardice won out. “Why do you play music in the barns?” It was nice at least, to hear something while he was going about his work, but he’d noticed last time that there were speaker systems hooked up in the rafters above. Still, hearing classic rock ballads or piano pieces while he was attending cattle was a bit..odd.

 

 “O-oh, that?” Dean’s cheeks flushed a charming shade of cherry. "I uh, read in a few papers that music helps keep the cow’s stress levels down. They do it in all those fancy dairy farms overseas you know? They seem to like it.”

 

Castiel’s brow raised, shocked that Dean was quite that thoughtful. “Yes, that’s pretty standard for a lot of animals actually. They can like music like we do, well, maybe not to the same degree. That’s very thoughtful of you, Dean.”

 

“Nah, it’s just, whatever is good for ‘em right?” Dean ducked his head, worn boots scraping the dry compost as he turned. “You okay for doin’ pregnancy checkups?” If Castiel wasn’t still unsure about Dean’s open-mindedness he might have thought the man’s shy attempt at deflection was cute.

 

“Yes, Mr Fitzgerald called and ah... Mr Fizzles’ gastric upset seems to have resolved itself, so I’m free.”

 

Dean snorted, “Mr Fizzles wouldn’t get those stomach aches if Garth didn’t baby him. I think he forgets it’s an alpaca and not a hamster.”

 

They made their way over to the main barn, passing two farmhands as they went. The two men spared Dean a hello but didn’t bother for him. It wasn’t uncommon but frustrating all the same. The small snub flared the prior silence back full-force, and the small bit of ease Dean had managed was lost.

 

He expected Dean to go about his business once Castiel had pulled on a longer set of gloves and started working, but the rancher kept hovering.

 

“This one’s coming along,” Castiel kept up the commentary as he checked the first few cows more out of reflex than anything. Even with the music playing overhead the silence between them was cavernous.

Five cows in and Dean finally broke the tight-lipped vigil. “Look, man, I’m sorry about Roy and Walt. They’re assholes and what they said at the bar was out of line.” Oh, well, it was abrupt and sudden but Castiel could appreciate that it had been weighing on Dean’s mind.

 

“I’m used to bigots, Dean.” Castiel would shrug if his arm was currently lodged within the cavernous insides of a dairy cow.

 

“Still don’t make it right. You don’t go sayin’ shit like that to people just cause they’re… gay.” Dean grumbled, having trouble gritting out the word for all his indignance.

 

“Meg is Bisexual, only Balthazar is actually gay. I’m Homoflexible… more or less.” He didn’t mind spending time with women, but he couldn’t say he desired them to the degree he did men, at least not sexually. He wasn’t one for casual sex unless in dire straits, so for all intensive purposes it was easier for him to just tell people he was homosexual and be done with it.

 

Dean had gone silent behind him and a casual glance revealed the sheer look of confusion written over the man’s face. “Homo-what-now?”

 

Right. It wasn’t at all surprising Dean didn’t know what any of that meant. Castiel wondered if Dean had traveled out of the surrounding states, let alone someplace with a high volume of queer identities. Castiel had been completely ignorant to any and all things unless overheard by his brother’s whispers about surfing the internet (of which they hadn’t been allowed), or until he’d moved.

 

  
“Homoflexible is having a masculine lean, but women aren’t completely out of the question... Roughly.” He was broad stroking it, but even he couldn’t fully put to words what he felt. ” It’s hard to explain, there are too many variations and identifies to be all-encompassing so easily.”

 

“Wait, that’s a thing? I thought you know, you were straight or gay.”

 

“Of course not, attraction is a spectrum like anything-“Castiel grunted as he extracted his hand from the last cow. ”-else. That one is a little far back, by the way, I’d watch the pregnancy closely.” He stripped off the long gloves with a scrunched nose, glad that he wore his coveralls for all the muck the cows had gotten on him.

 

 

The wheels were still turning in Dean’s head when Castiel turned around, a deep look of concentration furrowing the rancher’s brow. He knew people often thought things were very black and white, but Dean had a brother that was in university, Castiel would have thought he’d be a little more versed by proxy alone.

 

Dean tugged himself from his thoughts, swallowing hard. “Come around past the milking stalls and there’s a mudroom you can clean up in, don’t want your coveralls getting’ your truck dirty.” Dean tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket, eyes cagey once more. Castiel was tempted to refuse and get going, but Dean had been right. He _really_ didn’t want to get any more unnecessary mess in his only vehicle for the days he didn’t have to trudge around a farm he’d like the cab of his truck to smell a little less like a barnyard.

 

He picked up his kit and followed, walking past the vacated area where most of the cows were out to pasture leaving it open with a pleasant breeze cutting through.

 

They walked past the large metal vats in the processing area and around to a side room set up with a wide sink and a couple of hanging water nozzles. Sitting his kit down, Castiel nudged off his boots so he could give them a spray-down. The zipper of his coveralls went next, the still-clean expanse of his grey shirt revealed in the parting of the heavier dark blue material.

 

He felt eyes on him. Dean was watching him and not at all being shy about it. Castiel wasn’t sure what to read in the look, or why Dean was staring at him so intently, but he didn’t see any malice in it.

 

Castiel stripped off his outer layer and tossed it over the side of the sink while he scrubbed up his arms with disinfectant soap.

 

“How’d you know?” Dean’s voice interjecting into the vague silence of the cool room startled him.

 

“What— Know what?”

 

“That you were gay, uh, homo-whatever?”

 

Castiel’s brow quirked as he peered over his shoulder to see Dean staring at him with more intensity than he’d been earlier. “Well... I always had inclinations, but my parent’s religion always said it was wrong, so I pushed them down. Denied it. It wasn’t until high school that I started coming to terms with it. I dated Meg, and it was her that actually helped me realize it fully. Then when I moved to a more open area it was just, easier, I suppose.” He carefully explained, wondering why Dean had asked. The man had more curiosity than Castiel expected on the subject.

 

The room fell back into silence after Dean gave a small, thoughtful nod. Castiel went back to rinsing off his arms, the bite of the cool faucet water bristling goosebumps up his forearms. He smoothed the remaining water on his dripping hands back through his untamable locks, sighing softly at the feeling of purging himself from the day-to-day of his job.

 

The shuffle of feet drew him out of his reverie and when he glanced over Dean had closed the distance between them by a few feet.  Dean was watching every more he made, even when he reached to shut off the water and turn to face him. Castiel wanted to say something, even the rancher’s name, but he found himself staring back. There was heat there now, burning behind the surface of grass green. Castiel thought the man’s flirty nature was just wishful thinking before, especially after the bar, but there was no denying how Dean was looking at him now.

 

He turned a little further, backside pressed against the metal sink. Dean took another few steps forward, a solitary length between them. There may be lust etched behind that freckled face, but the semi-wild look of panic felt almost a bit… comforting. Dean was scared shitless and Castiel was sure he was going to come to his sense and flee the room before he could act on whatever flight of fancy had gripped him.

 

He was wrong.

 

Dean closed the distance between them and his hands came up to grip at the side of Castiel’s stubble-rough face. Castiel gasped into the kiss, momentarily shell-shocked by the turn of the tides. Dean must have felt him tense because all too soon he was trying to back off. Inwardly cursing, Castiel gave chase, his damp hands sliding into the short crop of sun-bleached hair to anchor Dean into the kiss.

 

The groan Dean made against his lips was sinful, reverberating down Castiel’s spine in a bass note that licked at the suppressed libido he’d been ignoring since he’d moved back to Dighton. The kiss was awkward, bruising even, both unsure how to handle the other or where they expected this to go, but it was deliriously good. Good because neither had expected the surge of lust that warmed between them with every slide of flushed lips or tongue stroke.

 

Dean was pressing him back into the sink, edge digging into the swell of Castiel’s buttock. Even still, Castiel stayed gripped to Dean with a vengeance to rival his prior balking. His hands slid down the line of Dean’s neck, blunt nails scraping until the frustrating roadblock of his flannel got in the way. Resigning himself to the intrusive cloth, Castiel’s hands continued down, feeling the muscular expanse of the rancher’s body underneath.

 

The need for air drove them apart, and Dean’s mouth turned to his jawline, mouthing the hard line of his jaw and down to his neck; easily accessed by his simple Tshirt. The scrape of Dean’s teeth against the curve of his neck drew a soft moan that filled the room only populated by metal and concrete. Any breath they made amplified, acoustic sounds of carnality that would have Dean’s hired men beating down the door if they weren’t careful. He could only pray they were off in the other barn or had gone for the day.

 

Dean’s hand wandered, skirting down the tapered line of Castiel’s waist and hips, dipping underneath the hem of his shirt to stroke against the olive skin of his sides. Castiel sighed into the touch, the airy breath hitching into another gasp when Dean grew bolder still and reached to cup against his backside, drawing him from the sink enough to let his hands explore.

 

The trappings of his denims were growing uncomfortable and judging by the hard line pressed against him, so were Dean’s. Knowing the man was rock hard against him was dizzying, nearly making him fumble into the hold.  He’d slept with men before, even if he wasn’t what he would say ‘experienced’, but nothing made his blood boil so hot as it was now. He might be inexperienced, but there was a hesitation in Dean’s movements that told him the other was practically quaking under the weight of his nerves. It made Castiel feel more in control of the situation, more focused.

 

His hips ground up against Dean’s, pressing their groins together for a bloom of near-painful friction. Another groan pulled from Dean, muffled against the kiss-littered skin of Castiel’s neck. Dean pressed back, using his grip on Castiel’s ass to angle them until the bulge of their trapped lengths slotted against one another.

 

“G-god,” Castiel breathed, quietly thankful that Dean didn’t look to be the overly religious type.

 

Another push of Dean’s hips obliterated the last of his of trepidation. “Dean—” He panted, pressing against Dean’s shoulders until he could get a little space between them.

 

Dean’s face scrunched in confusion as he stepped back, bracing himself to be rebuffed. Castiel fell to his knees, wiggling his legs a little apart to ease the pressure of his erection. He nosed forward, mouthing the front of Dean’s jeans. The rough cuss above him melded with the thrilled look of clarity that dawned in Dean’s eyes sheared up Castiel’s pulse to new heights.

 

“Going to put your mouth on me?” Dean’s lust-thick voice could be weaponized for how much it made him ache. Castiel hummed a note, hands creeping up to palm the sizable strain in the jeans. He’d only done this twice before, but now that he was down here he couldn’t chicken out— He wanted it too much.

 

The belt and zipper were done and out of the way quickly and only the black trappings of Dean’s boxers kept him at bay for now. A cursory touch on the fabric revealed a hidden dampness at the top of Dean’s cock, the heady scent of the man’s arousal filling his senses when he leaned close.

 

Hands crept into his hair, flexing into the strands when his lips parted over the shrouded tip of Dean’s cock. “F-fuck Cas.” Dean panted, hips giving an aborted twitch towards Castiel’s lips.

 

Stifling down the flutter of nerves that threatened to derail him, Castiel hooked his fingers into the elastic of Dean’s boxers and drew them down. His eyes widened when the full length of Dean’s cock bobbed free, flushed and thick. Heat rose from Dean’s arousal against his cheek as he took a moment to let his lips press to Dean’s base, steadying his nerves and sending shocks of desire south all at once.

 

His tongue flicked out, sliding against the underside of Dean’s weighty cock. Castiel licked a long stripe up Dean until the flat of his tongue met with Dean’s frenulum, and his lips parted to admit the tip. His jaw strained from the unaccustomed gape, taking Dean in until he had to wiggle a little closer and brace a hand against the man’s hip to keep him in place.

 

The hands threaded into his dark hair tightened, gripping but careful not to pull.

 

“Fuck, you look so good like that.” Dean crooned above him. Castiel tore his eyes from the little freckle at the side of Dean’s navel, meeting his eyes while he drew back to suck in a breath and work up the saliva in his mouth for the next descent.

 

A blush rose to his cheeks, unused to doing such things in a fully lit room in the middle of the day, but now that they were well past the point of no return Dean didn’t look to have the same hesitation.

One of Dean’s hands moved to cup his cheek, thumb slipping down to rub against his upper lip. The action was oddly intimate. No one had ever done something quite like _that_ before while he was going down on them, but Dean was looking at him as if he was porn made reality.

 

Well, he did suppose screwing around in the back of a barn in the middle of a work day did have quite a few porn-worthy points in its favor.

 

Under the spotlight of Dean’s attention, Castiel sank back down. He kept it shallow for now, bobbing his head to test out his limits. After a minute or so it became easier to take Dean in and he chanced going deeper until the prickle against his palate threatened to gag him. The hand not bracing himself slid up, gripping at Dean’s base to make up the difference of what he couldn’t immediately swallow.

 

The rhythmic breaths above him spurred him on until Dean was forced to abandon a hand from his head to grip the sink.

 

“Fuck Cas... just, just like that.” Dean groaned, turning his head into his arm to keep himself from talking too loudly.

 

Castiel felt a dribble of saliva threaten to spill down his lips and swallowed reflexively, too afraid of making a mess of himself to realize what effect that would have on what he was doing. His mouth and throat tensed up against Dean’s cock, the rolling pulse of his tongue trying to swallow around something too big to allow him to clear his mouth pulling a louder gasp from Dean that bordered on a shout. Had it not been for the abrupt jerk of Dean’s hips into the depths of his mouth Castiel would have thought he’d hurt him.

 

The invasion of extra length from the twitch of Dean’s hips nudged into the very back of his throat, momentarily choking off his airway until he was forced to pull off with a gasp. Dean’s cock was shining, bobbing with a hard twitch that made Castiel all too aware that he was still trapped within the confines of his jeans.

 

Cussing softly, his right-hand dove to his groin as he plunged back over Dean. With a rough, desperate hand he freed himself from his prison, groaning hard around Dean’s dick at the first slide of his fingers over his aching length.

 

Dean’s breathing stuttered above him, “Shit... going to touch yourself while you suck me?” Castiel had never slept with anyone quite so verbal—aside from Meg anyway, she’d never been shy about telling someone what she wanted. But the way Dean was talking now was electric. Filthy. “Going to come soon if you keep—Sh-shit.” Dean’s hand tightened in his hair, wanting to press him down but too courteous to risk choking him.

 

Castiel sucked a deep breath through his nose and relaxed down, even when his first instinct was not to challenge his gag reflex. The new inch trapped in his throat was enough to send Dean over the edge, and within moments he was spilling down the back of his throat. The flood of heat coating his mouth was dizzying, and his hand gripped harder over his own cock, thumbing over his head while Dean soaked his throat.

 

He pulled off with an obscenely wet pop, slouching back against the sink to suck in greedy lungfuls of air while Dean recovered above him.

 

His hand still moved over his dick, hard shivers spasming up his back with each long pull.

 

“Get up.” Dean was looking at him again, eyes pinned to his lap. He helped haul Castiel to his feet, crashing their lips together for another bruising kiss that tasted of Dean’s seed.

 

Dean fled from the kiss a moment later, descending to the floor and taking Castiel’s cock past his plump pink lips fast enough it nearly sent Castiel to the floor. Castiel’s hand slapped out, taking his turn at gripping the sink and Dean’s shoulder to keep himself steady as Dean fell on him with the hunger of a dying man.

 

Dean was sloppy in his technique (not that he had enough experience to notice), but his mouth was blistering hot, sealing around him with a hollow of his freckled cheeks. It was all he could do to keep upright while the man bobbed over his dick, the lurid sounds of his slick mouth pistoning back and forth melding with the whimpers Castiel was forced to swallow down.

 

“D-dean, Jesus... Christ... I’m going to—“He’d already been touching himself while sucking Dean off, but Dean’s eagerness to be on his dick had him spilling before he could brace himself for it.

 

Dean drew back enough to suckle his tip while a strong, work-calloused hand fisted over his length. One look down at Dean’s waiting mouth flung Castiel into the void, orgasm punching out of him with a strangled gasp that had him seeing stars.

 

The next minute he could focus his eyes back on Dean’s face, he understood why the man had possessed such a fascination with his lips. Milky white painted Dean’s lips, red tongue slipping out to clear away what hadn’t shot into his mouth. Castiel had expected him to wipe it away, spit it out, or do anything else than reach and thumb the rest off his upper lip to bring to his waiting tongue.

 

“Dean...” Castiel breathed in awe, reaching to catch Dean’s wrist. He drew the other up to his feet, bringing his slicked digit to his lips and licking the remains off Dean’s thumb. Dean’s breath fluttered, swallowing hard as he watched Castiel’s tongue clean him.

 

Their lips met for another kiss, slow and deep. Their tastes melded between their tongues, tangling in a sated glide that was for their mutual enjoyment rather than to stoke anymore flames.

 

A bang at the other end of the barn from one of the employees of the ranch tore them apart with the effectiveness of a cattle prod. Cursing in realization, they dove to redress themselves. A whistle from outside perked Dean’s attention, face scrunching between irritation and panic.

 

“Hey Dean! Still got that air compressor? Truck tire is a bit low and I need to be getting’ on!” One of Dean’s employees was shouting, milling around the barn to search out his boss so he could get home.

 

“Fuck.” Dean grumbled, redoing his belt-buckle and casting a glance in Castiel’s direction. ”I-um, gotta...” Castiel nodded quickly, willing Dean not to continue and just _leave_ before they were caught together looking so guilty. Dean looked like he wanted to melt into the earth and Castiel hadn’t yet processed what had just happened.

 

Dean retreated out through the processing room, leaving Castiel to slump against the sink and lay his head on his folded arms just to _breath_. The pleasant tingle of euphoria had been washed away with the burst of adrenaline from nearly getting caught, but the lingering taste of their combined seed on his tongue still permeated his mouth.

 

 

 “Castiel Novak, you’re an idiot.” He grumbled to himself as he bent to retrieve his bag. After snatching his coveralls from the sink, he hurried out of the barn, relieved to see that the employee’s truck was over by the secondary barn instead of by Dean’s ranch house. If he had to interact with Dean anymore today he wasn’t sure if he could keep the evidence of what they’d just done out of his eyes.

 

Only when he was closed in the familiar sanctity of his truck and fleeing down the highway towards his office did he sit back and breath. A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed his fears. He looked well and thoroughly fucked. Lips kiss-swollen and his neck was a mess from the kisses and stubble of Dean’s jaw alike. If he went in like this to finish up paperwork for the day Meg would be able to sniff it out, probably literally.

 

Sighing, he pulled over to fire off a quick text, begging Balthazar to finish things up with Meg and that he’d see them tomorrow. They’d know something was up, Castiel never took off unless he was on death’s door, but an explanation could wait til tomorrow when the ghost of Dean’s lips and hands weren’t fresh on his body.

 

He flicked on the radio to drown out the rest of his thoughts, The Beatle’s ‘Norwegian Wood’ filled the cab.

 

Castiel sighed again as he pulled onto the road, “Really?”


	4. Chapter 4

 “Shit.”

 

That was the fifth thing he’d dropped in two hours. Castiel huffed a self-pitying breath and slumped over to retrieve the fallen tray, thanking the stars the sample on the counter hadn’t been on it.

 

He was being foolish. It had been three days since _it_ had happened, and he still felt out of sorts. This was exactly why he didn’t do casual hookups. They made him feel… confused. Lost. And even a little disgusted with himself. He didn’t fault anyone that was alright with casual encounters, but he just wasn’t the type to get the same satisfaction later that others did. It had felt good, _really_ good, but the rushed fumbling after and glances of guilt had doused the flames of sordid passion that might have left him with a good afterglow otherwise. Maybe then Dean would have said something; _looked_ at him with something other than quiet regret.

 

For how into it Dean looked during, he sure looked like he’d been punched in the gut after.

 

Castiel set the tray aside, mentally flagging it to sanitize later. It was almost lunch anyway and now was as good of a time to sit down and get his head together.

 

“Another long face day? Alright, Cas, I’ve waited, spill—or else.” Meg was on the prowl as soon as he walked from the examination room, watching him like a poised cat weighing the decision to pounce.

 

“Do I— “

 

“Yes.”

 

Castiel glared all the way to the small break room, moodily snatching his lunch from the squat fridge that held up a battered coffee maker. “It’s just—of a sensitive nature.” As if that wouldn’t make Meg even more curious. “Fine. I, when I went to Dean’s farm," God this was a lot harder than he’d expected.

 

Slumping into a seat at the table shoved up against the wall, he waited til Meg rolled from the front desk on her rolling chair to lean into the room.

 

“He was asking a lot of questions, which seems obvious now, especially after that altercation at the bar, but, well.” He stalled for a little more time with a bite of yogurt, “I was cleaning up at the back of the barn and he… Kissed me. One thing led to another and...“ He swallowed another bite, heat rising to his cheeks at the glee blooming on Meg’s face. “We ‘fooled around’.” He sighed, hanging his head as a tea-kettle squeal burst from his ex-girlfriend’s throat and she launched herself from her chair to plant herself at the break table.

 

“Holy _shit_! You fucked Dean Winchester?!”

 

A hard thump sounded from the stairs leading down to the supply room below them. A moment later, Balthazar burst into the room, hooking his hands on the doorway. “Wait, Cassy did _what_?! I didn’t know you had it in you!!”

 

Castiel slumped until his head hit the table top, shoving his lunch out of the way. Leave it to them to fill in the blanks with as much vulgarity as they could conjure. “No, I didn’t—There was no actual ‘fucking’ Balthazar, we were in a barn, I’d like to point out.” He grumbled, voice muffled by the cheap linoleum.

 

“Okay, either way, you screwed around with Dean Winchester, dude that banged his way through his senior year?” Meg chuckled with impish glee, reaching out under the table so she could nudge her sensible heel against his shin.” Details Cas, details! Let me live vicariously through you!”

 

Balthazar snorted, “Bugger off, buttercup, _I’ll_ be the one living vicariously around here while you have your head buried between your girlfriend’s legs.”

 

Today was going to kill him. Or he was going to kill them. One way or another, someone wasn’t going to walk out of this building by closing.

 

“I’m not going to give a ‘play by play’ of how I fornicated!” Castiel held up his hands to quote-bunny as if the two wouldn’t be able to puzzle out his sports reference. He’d worked hard to pick up colloquialisms when he’d moved outside of his family’s rigid expectations towards manners and proper decorum. Not that any of it had ever stuck to Gabriel.

 

“Hell yes, you are! You owe us, remember~? We covered for you when you knocked off early, so spill sweet-cheeks.” Balthazar plopped down on Meg’s discarded rolling chair and butt-scooted until he could get into proper gossiping range.

 

Castiel looked up from the mini-fortress of his folded arms, no amount of scowling dislodging their expectant eyes.

 

“Fine.” They inched a little closer.

 

“After he kissed me—Jesus I don’t know if that’s the first time he ever kissed a man, but he was—" His tongue peeked past his pale pink lips, wetting the faintly chapped surface. "—enthusiastic. I’ve never done anything that stupid or reckless before but I… might have…” His cheeks were getting progressively more flushed as he rushed through the broad strokes of what had taken place in the middle of a workday.

 

Meg and Balthazar stared at him, mouths gaping.” Holy _shit,_ Cas! You BLEW Dean in his own barn? I’ve never been prouder of you than I am right now.” Meg mimed wiping away tears, knowing it would grate him. “But better! You got that pretty little mouth of his around your co— “

  
  
“Megan!”

  
  
"—ck! Let me coo, dammit! I knew there was a harlot lurking somewhere under all that church-boy upbringing.” She snickered, reaching out to smack his shoulder with a fond smile. “Good for you, but why’ve you been moping around? You had porn-worthy fucking around and you’re been bristly-…er than usual.”

 

Balthazar interjected before Castiel could work up the nerve, “Because he banged a closeted hotty and got the boot afterwards.” He smirked, a knowing look in his bright eyes.

 

“I hate casual hookups. I hate feeling like I did something wrong,” Castiel paused, frowning. And he hated that if Dean walked through the door and gestured he’d probably go willingly. He was attracted to Dean, painfully so, but that couldn’t rule his better sense.

 

 “Not to mention that there is a chance he could turn it around on you. As hot as it sounded, are you sure Dean isn’t the type like his buffoons of friends? I’ve seen that type before. Weekend partiers that deny what they get up to when no one’s looking to the point of hurting people just because they’re too idiotic to cop-up to where they put their dicks.” Balthazar sneered, crossing his arms over his chest as if to gird himself.

 

A few heartbeats later, Balthazar’s leer returned. “But as long as you know he’s a hopeless closet-case. I’d say go for it. Screw in the barn, your truck, anywhere you can get that cute ass. But don’t expect anything of it.”

 

Castiel frowned. That hadn’t exactly been the encouragement he’d been looking for. “I’m not going to do _any_ of that. I do have a little self-respect!”  He didn’t appreciate the twin snorts aimed his way.

 

“Picky.” Meg rolled her eyes, reaching to steal one of his baby carrots from his lunch. “It’s slim pickins around here, blue-eyes. As far as I know, only you and this British bastard are the only out-and-proud gays in town. I had to convert my own.” She snickered, a running joke among their circle.

 

“Thanks for the encouragement, but neither of you are helping. I’m attempting to eat my lunch.” Castiel pouted, raking his food back towards him before the vultures could pick it clean.

 

“Oh, speaking of, after you eat your sad hippie-food, run out to Caroline’s after. Not urgent, she just wants you to take a look at her bull.” Meg added, stealing yet another carrot that he half-heartedly tried to protect, his heart no longer in eating.

 

 Castiel nodded, picking at his veggie sandwich for a few more bites before abandoning it entirely. “I’ll get it done now while there’s a lull.” He decided, ignoring the look Balthazar was giving him as he slowly scooted back towards the reception desk to return Meg’s seat towards her. Seeing the dubious tilt to Balthazar’s brows while he went rolling out of the room would have been obscenely comical if he wasn’t on the receiving end of that side-eye.

 

 

 The low gurgling of his stomach was just icing on the proverbial shit-cake that made up his day when he found himself thumping his forehead steadily against his steering wheel hours later. He wouldn’t have barely eaten lunch if he’d known his usually trustworthy old truck would give up the ghost on the side of the highway on the way back from Caroline’s farm.

 

Castiel fished his cellphone from his pocket, sliding out of his front seat to get out of his rapidly warming truck. It wasn’t an overly hot day, but the late afternoon sun was warm on his back and even hotter in his clunky metal vehicle.

 

“Shit.” Deadzone. Because of course, it was.

 

His fist tightened around the traitorous flip phone—one that Gabriel still poked fun at him for having. He didn’t have many people to text, and he preferred just calling people instead of taking the time to tip-tap messages he could barely make sense of anyway. Why take minutes to write out something he could say in ten seconds?

 

In a last-ditch effort, he walked around to the hood of his truck and popped it. He knew next to nothing about vehicles or how they ran, other than checking the dipstick and changing out his windshield wipers. He let his mechanic worry about all the other details. Staring down at the bits and pieces that made up the heavy engine, Castiel added another regret to his growing list. He felt he should at least know the basics for moments like these. He was sure the problem was innocuous to someone that knew what they were doing, but to him, he might as well be diffusing a bomb.

 

There was no other choice, he was going to have to hoof it until his phone got back into service for someone to come get him. Gabriel should be out of class by now and could call a tow truck at least while Meg or Balthazar came to get him.

 

The pleasant breeze kicking up the back of hair as he walked would have been enjoyable on any other day, but the content chirps of birds on the powerlines or the distant sounds of life only served to mock him. Castiel was still aching from Caroline’s bull stepping on his foot when he’d been too in his head to give his surroundings their due consideration. He’d been too distracted lately, it was unprofessional, but he didn’t know a way to get out this- _unpleasantness_ nestled in his chest.

 

A low purring roar of an engine was coming up behind him. He supposed he could turn and try to flag down whoever was driving by to see if they could call for him, but he’d always had a secret fear of doing that. A byproduct of his mother’s less than charitable nature. She’d warned that people who hitchhiked could turn out to be murderers or the people that picked them up could be even _worse_. Her vivid details had sent cold chills down his eight-year-old spine and the memories lasting. It was foolish, but her influence was the same reason he still habitually said his prayers at night even if he didn’t believe anymore. He felt _guilty_ if he didn’t.

 

A sleek black car, vaguely familiar, zoomed past going faster than the speed limit and then some. By the time a minute had passed the car had already faded from his attention, but the roar was returning at a much slower speed and coming from the opposite direction. The black car stopped a few yards off, and the adolescent dread shifted to an all-too-real sensation of mortification as soon as he spied who was behind the wheel.

 

“Cas? What are you doing?” Dean stopped his car—an Impala, he remembered now, and got out of the car on the other side of the empty highway.

 

 Castiel swallowed, running a hand down his plain white T to smooth imaginary wrinkles. “My truck broke down. No service.” He held up his phone, wiggling it unnecessarily.

 

“Shit, no wonder, get that at an antique store? Just because we live out in the sticks don’t mean you have to get a flip-phone. Even my crusty uncle has a smartphone, Cas.” Dean neglected to mention Sam had been the one to gift ‘Uncle’ Bobby said smartphone, but his point still stood.

 

Dean was crossing the highway, hands shoved in his pockets with a slightly forced grin. At least he wasn’t the only one wishing he wasn’t there, which begged to question why Dean had bothered to stop at all.

 

Castiel pocketed his phone, frowning. “Well, pardon me for not being technologically up to your standards.” That hadn’t been what he wanted to say, it felt too close to something else.

 

Dean stalled, the pin to his record skipping just long enough for him to blink and suck in a small breath. ” Alright, grumpy gus, get in.“He jerked a thumb towards the Impala, where Castiel stared dumbly. ” You’re headed back to work right?” Dean pressed, seeing as he hadn’t moved a step.

 

After all that, Dean was going to drive him back? Castiel had been sure Dean wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him, and truthfully, the idea of being shut up in the Impala’s interior so close to Dean was as nausea-inducing as it was thrilling. His nerves wouldn’t be able to take it.

 

“Thanks.”

 

He’d slid into the passenger seat before his brain could scream ‘abort’. The scent of fresh leather polish tinged with the faint smell of fruit curled around him as soon as he settled. Dean’s car was impeccable. His truck wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t like this either. Castiel couldn’t spy a single speck of dust or grime within the car, polished and shined like a showroom’s claim to glory.

 

“You… take very good care of your vehicle.” Castiel murmured lamely, unable to think of anything to say to fill the oppressive air that settled around them as soon as Dean nestled back on the driver’s side.

 

Dean was quick to turn down the volume of his radio before they pulled away, ACDC’s ‘Hell’s Bells’ low beat almost drowning out the engine’s rumble. “Thanks. She’s my baby.” Dean thumped his hand tenderly against the dash before pulling a U-turn to get them back towards town. “Office?”

 

“Yes, thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

 

“You said your truck broke down? What’s wrong with it?”

 

 Castiel shifted in his seat, fingers sliding against the seatbelt to diffuse the nervous energy creeping through his veins. “I have no idea. I know nothing about cars.”

 

He saw Dean’s brow raised, like the man’s opinion of him had gone down a notch. That shouldn’t bother him, but it did.” Really? You grow up out here and didn’t learn cars?”

 

His lips pressed, the sour tang of memories filling him as his eyes broke off side-glancing Dean to watch the empty landscape. “I grew up very religiously, I tended the small farm and learned bible verses.”

 

“Yikes—shit, I mean. Yeah, I guess I remember that. You and siblings, I mean.” Dean certainly remembered more about him than Castiel would have ever expected.” You guys always wore clothes like there was a school uniform no one knew about.” There was a chuckle in Dean’s voice completely opposite to the bitter sensation the same memory brought out in Castiel.

 

Castiel had worn a lot of hand-me-downs in his childhood, but not school clothes. All of them had two sets of school clothes, the same uniform white shirts, khaki slacks for the boys, and a khaki skirt for Anna. The silver chains carrying Christ on the cross had to be polished every day, lined up just so with the pressed collars of their shirts. They’d been permitted to wear sweaters in the colder months if they weren’t ratty or ‘loud’, even if they’d been purchased with their own money. Navy had been his mother’s favorite pop of ‘color’ to give them.

 

 Silence lapsed again, the permeating awkward blanketing them in an oppressive fog. Dean had stepped on an unknown landmine and had only now realized that making Castiel remember an upbringing obviously at odds with his person hadn’t been bright.

 

 Dean shifted in his seat, the sound of his jeans sliding against the clean seats flickering memories of seeing those same jeans around Dean’s ankles unbidden. Castiel’s cheeks heated, and he hunkered down a little further, steeling himself against the tense car ride.

 

“My dad ran a garage.” Dean weakly offered.

 

Castiel’s brow quirked, looking over at the other man searchingly. Most everyone knew that mainly because everyone that had grown up in the town remembered John Winchester. The man had blown into town with two young boys in tow. It hadn’t taken long for gossip to circulate around. John had left Lawrence after his wife had died, wanting to make a new life for him and his boys. Unfortunately, all he’d done was find himself at the bottom of a bottle. Last Castiel had heard, John Winchester had died from complications from heavy drinking a handful of years back.

 

“Few blocks from the public pool,” Castiel recalled.

 

“Right. That’s… just how I know about cars and stuff. Not like everyone does. Sam borrows his girlfriend’s car when he visits, doesn’t own one.” Dean snorted as if that fact was sacrilegious instead of economical.

 

Castiel slowly nodded, “Right.” He wanted to ask about John, about what had happened to the shop. Dean had said John had life insurance, but he wondered if Dean had sold off the shop as well to purchase his ranch.   


They were a few minutes off from the office, and the conversation died again. It had been so easy before when they were outside among the cows, but now it was all wrong. There was none of the ease there had been when Dean talked to him like an old friend instead of someone that had been on the fringe of his radar in high school.

Castiel couldn’t wait to get the hell out of the Impala and forget the tropical-fruit and leather that melded so well with the cologne Dean was wearing. Dean must have been going somewhere non-work related to be going in the Impala instead of his work truck, but he was too hesitant to ask.

 

“You going to call Irv?” They were turning on the street of the office when Dean started up.

 

“Yes. He knows my truck well.”

 

“Good… Good.” Dean trailed, pulling the car to stop by the curb.

 

“Thank you— “

 

"—Cas.”

 

They started to speak, lips sealing in startled realization. Castiel’s eyes met Dean’s, and he fell into the verdant shine after avoiding meeting Dean’s eyes the entire exchange. It only took a look to feel the lurch of burning lust return, remembering the shameless intensity of their mouths crashing against Dean's. Their hands roving. Or the taste of Dean’s cock.

 

Dean’s eyes flicked down to his lips.

 

Castiel’s tongue peeked past his lower lip, conscious of Dean’s eyes on him.

 

“Yes, Dean?”

 

Dean was looking at him with the weight of the sun again like he intended to divine his struggles on the expanse of Castiel’s lips. “I, uh—” He started, swallowing hard and shifting sideways in his seat so he could better face Castiel.

 

Castiel angled his body back, hand drifting down to unclasp his seatbelt. His knee knocked gently against Dean’s when he turned, and despite the A/C running, the heat crawling up his skin doubled.

 

“It’s just...” Dean scooted a little closer, their legs touching. He was leaning in close, hand flexing against the seat where his arm had draped.  

 

Dean was going to kiss him. Castiel just knew it. He could feel the anticipation building within, begging for Dean to just get on with it before they both exploded into a million pieces. He was so close to touching him, a few more inches and Dean’s fingers would be on his shoulder and Castiel could just lean in and—

 

Castiel’s stomach growled, snapping him from the bewitchment he found in Dean’s eyes. A hot blush tore up his neck and cheeks and he withdrew, “I... skipped lunch. I should—“He waved vaguely towards the clinic as Dean hurried to situate himself back towards the wheel.

 

“Yeah, ‘course. Hope nothins up with your truck. See you later.” Dean tossed back, carefully avoiding Castiel’s eyes as much as Castiel was avoiding his.

 

“Thank you again, Dean.” Castiel meant that sincerely, no matter how miserable it came out. His retreat to the office felt like a loss, but of what he didn’t want to address. Dean had tried to say something he hadn’t managed, and he doubted he’d ever found out what is was now. Maybe he didn’t want to. They’d almost done something again that Dean would no doubt regret later. Meg and Balthazar had cautioned him against sleeping with ‘straight‘ men and expecting more, but he couldn’t disassociate himself like that. He didn’t want to be someone’s kept secret. Their _shame_. He deserved better than that.

 

The purring rumble of the Impala started back up when his hand fell on the doorknob, and Castiel retreated into the sanctity of his office to call the mechanic and ignore the burning ache in his stomach that had nothing to do with skipping lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write
> 
> And of course go to: https://space-wolf.com/ for beautiful art!


	5. Chapter 5

[Be careful alright? If Mrs Coleman keeps screwin around take the damn dog home and make her ass pick it up there]

 

Gabriel’s endearing texts were growing more irritable with every minute Castiel stayed at his office. The rolling thunder of the oncoming storm drew closer, casting the horizon into darkness. It wouldn’t be long until the skies opened up, but he couldn’t go just yet.

 

Oreo’s low keening made a steady chorus from the back. The little black and white Boston terrier was ready to go home and hadn’t let him hear the end of it for the past two hours.

 

Meg and Balthazar left nearly half an hour ago, but he remained to get the place cleaned up, latched down and the trash bins pulled close to the building in case of truly bad weather. Mrs Coleman promised she’d be around by six, but it was crowding close to seven now and he was growing impatient to get home. Honeybee had an automatic feeder and plenty of water, but Castiel didn’t enjoy the idea of a storm coming in and leaving his cat alone to tear up the couch in his absence. He’d outfitted his claws with glittery rub caps, but Honeybee was as creative as he was a minion of the underworld.

 

A car door perked his attention, and much to his relief Mrs Coleman tottered in a few seconds later, dressed in three more layers than necessary and a clear rain bonnet tightly cinched around her dry, bleached curls. “Sorry sorry, Doctor Novak! Salon went a little long.” She gave her ugly mass of squashed hair an appreciative pat.” Where’s my pookins? Was he good? How is he? Go on.” She ‘shoo’ed him to the back as if his pace wasn’t nearly fast enough despite the middle-aged woman keeping him waiting for over an hour.

 

Sighing, Castiel turned to retrieve the yappy little dog, taking a moment to adjust the sparkling pink harness back on. “Oreo was fine; the cyst just needed draining. As I said.” He added with a quiet smirk. The woman had been convinced the cyst was the end of the world and had sobbed hysterically into his shirt for half an hour before he’d managed to calm her down. Meg and Balthazar had laughed at the mask of cheap foundation and coral lipstick left on his shirt as soon as she’d peeled herself off the front of his scrubs.

 

“Oh good! I just knew it, I take good care of him you know! None of that mess they feed them around here, we get it _shipped_.” She clucked, patting the squirming dog with a fond hand, long nails scratching like spider’s legs down Oreo’s scruff.

 

“Yes, well, your accounts already squared away so…”

 

“Do you know some of that food they have at the Supplyhut has _corn_ in it? Not for Oreo! Not for my little baby boy~”

 

“…There’s a storm coming, and I’m sure Oreo would like to be in his bed at home to recover.”

 

“Recover? I thought you said it was something small! Should he be on pain medicine? I don’t want my baby to be uncomfortable!”

 

Castiel inwardly groaned, casting forlorn eyes out the window to see the encroaching pitch clouds rolling ever closer.

 

“No, that shouldn’t be necessary. He’s perfectly fine.”

 

Mrs Coleman gave him dubious eyes, tacky pink lips parting for another volley of needless prattle. The sharp sound of the office phone made all three of them jump, and he lunged for it in his desperation to extract himself from the woman’s chatter.

 

“From Muzzles to Manes, Doctor Novak speaking.” Castiel waved with a faux saccharine smile as Mrs Coleman departed.

 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice stole his attention. An undulating moo sounded in the distance over the phone, followed by a peel of thunder and a rough cuss.

 

“Dean?”

 

Some footsteps and a screen door later, “Look, man, I’m sorry to be calling you like this especially with a storm comin’, but something is wrong Dorothy— uh, one of the cows you looked at last time. Big one? Tried to eat your shirt?” That was all really pointless information, but Castiel thought it adorable that Dean expected him to remember one of the many, _many_ cows he’d seen in the past month.

 

 Castiel was already moving, hurrying into the back to pull things into his kit. “What’s wrong with her? What are the symptoms?”

“She looked like she was going into labor but nothins’ happening. She’s getting agitated and isn’t making any headway, so I figure it’s stuck or something is wrong.” Bones yipped in the background at the tail end of a thunder crack.

 

“Damn, you were right to call me. I’ll be right there. Is she in a good space?” He set the phone down on speaker as he started to shimmy into his coveralls.

 

“Yep, in a stall in the back of barn one. Should I do anything?”

 

“Just meet me there. I’ll need your help. Do you have a calf pull or should I bring one from the truck?”

 

 The screen door sounded again, and the ambient storm noise increased. “I’ve got one, be careful, storms already starting up out here.”

 

Castiel grunted and hung up, hurrying to get the rest of what he might need and to lock the place up. He wouldn’t be able to come back tonight after this, and there were no animals for an overnight to worry about now that Oreo went home.

 

Halfway there, the skies started to rage, pelting his truck with fat drops of cold rain. His windshield wipers worked overtime to keep up, but all the work he’d done recently to his vehicle put him at a slight ease. At least there was minimal risk of breaking down.

 

By the time he made it to Dean’s ranch the winds picked up, catching his door as he exited and flaring it wide with a groaning squeak as the hinges caught. He’d driven past the driveway and towards the barn, not wanting to risk running across the field in this weather with his arms full of equipment.

 

Over the sound of the storm, he heard a distant bellow from the distressed cow and hurried to grab his bag from the back of the truck.

 

“Cas! Over here!” Dean’s head poked around one of the far entrances, short hair plastered down by rain.

 

“How is she?” Castiel dashed inside, shaking the dripping water from his messy hair before it flooded down in front of his eyes.

 

 Dean hurried back to the stall, where the large, _very_ pregnant cow shifted on uncomfortable feet. “Gettin’ tired I think. This and the storm has her spooked. Dorothy isn’t a high-energy girl anyway.” Dean heaved himself over the stall gate; face pinched as he combed a tender hand against Dorothy’s back.

 

 Castiel took a moment to look at her face, but he wasted little time walking around to her hindquarters. “Get the cattle pull ready. I would bet anything it’s a breech.” He grunted as he started to feel the cow’s birth canal, blanching when he felt just as he feared.

 

“I’m going to bring the legs around and see if we can’t get some progress.” Talking through the process was easier on everyone. It gave Dean something to focus on, and it settled his own nerves when it came to high-intensity births.

 

The slick blood made getting his hand around the calves’ ankles difficult, but he managed enough where he could get the calf-pull in place. “Chain.” He prompted, holding out a bloodied hand for Dean to deposit the length of chain into.

 

“I’m going to help her here. Have you ever had a breech calf before?”

 

Dean crunched a bit of dirt nervously under his boot, “Yeah, but it didn’t make it. Caught it too late." There was regret in his voice. “Learned better now.”

 

“You called quick enough. That’s good, Dean—okay, got it.” Castiel finished placing the chains around the calf’s legs and made to stand back so he could get his hands around the chain.  “Stand back.” He rooted his feet against the ground and pulled a bit of tension on the chain. He had to go incrementally, less he hurry the birth too fast and end up hurting the calf. It was slow going at first, but once the legs made it free the rest of the body was soon to follow.

 

“Prop up her back end a bit!” Castiel ordered, kneeling to start rubbing his hands over the small thing, promoting warmth and blood flow. “Come on.” He crooned, unceremoniously probing the calf’s nostrils. Almost instantly she recoiled, bleating insistent notes of displeasure and puffing small breaths.

 

“There we go. Watch her. There’s another one.”

 

 Dean’s hand paused on the calf’s back, brows creeping up.” Twins?”

 

 Castiel picked the calf pull back up and started in for the next one. “A good number of—there’s the legs—breech calves are twins.” The second one slid into the birthing canal a little easier, and Castiel was quick to re-wrap the chain.

 

Dean was watching him with rapt attention as he began to pull the other free. “Damn. How long you been a vet?”

 

Castiel back-glanced during a small pause, “Not very long. But working out here, you ‘get your feet wet’ pretty quickly.” He smirked, and another slow tug had the remaining calf free. 

 

“Another girl. Come on little one, rise and shine.” Thunder crashed, the vibrations trembling the relatively new barn to the foundations. Castiel struggled to get this one perked up like her sister and he resorted to having Dean hold up her back end while he worked to clear out her airways. After what felt like an eternity, the smaller calf began to squirm and whine, joining her sister’s plaintive newborn cries.

 

“Thank goodness.” He sighed, sitting back to catch his breath while the two calves worked to rouse themselves under their mother’s caring tongue.

 

 Dean joined him, sitting down with a hard grunt to scrub his bloodied, soiled hands down the front of his jeans. “Christ, that was something. Look at ‘em, can’t even tell something went wrong.” Dean was grinning from ear to ear, despite being covered in muck almost as much as he was.” You’re something else, Cas.” He reached out, clapping Castiel hard on the shoulder and letting his hand linger there a moment in a bracing squeeze.

 

“What’s the saying? ‘All in a day’s work’?” Castiel chuckled with a tired smile, flinching when another burst of the raging storm made itself known. “Sounds like it’s going to be one to remember.”

 

Dean frowned, turning his attention to the half-opened barn door to see it raining nearly sideways. “Looks like. Come on. Let’s get inside.” Castiel raised a brow as Dean helped him up, but he didn’t get the chance to decline. “Hell no, you’re not driving in this. Funnel cloud could sweep you off into Texas, and no one would ever know. Just wait it out here, there’s a storm cellar if things go south.”

 

He could think of five different reasons that was a very bad, but very good, idea. Castiel knew that intellectually staying over was a good idea, but there was a nagging little voice in him that blared a not so subtle reminder about why he’d been dreading seeing Dean again since that awkward car ride. They’d almost kissed, even when he knew Dean was going to be the type to keep this under wraps, so he could still keep his position in the community. Despite Castiel’s moral objections to sleeping with someone so closeted, he couldn’t deny that his attraction to Dean was a much stronger force.

 

Still, they were covered in blood and guck and there was a very real possibility of a tornado looming in the future. They couldn’t get up to anything in this sort of situation.

 

He hoped.

 

“Yes, that's—a good idea. If you insist.” Castiel took time to give the three cows another once-over before they packed up his stuff and headed back out, sprinting across the field towards the house.

 

The rain was bitterly cold against their faces and back, mud kicking up against their work boots as they made a mad dash to relative safety. Castiel hated to get mud all over the back of Dean’s pristine porch, but Dean hardly looked to be paying attention.

 

Dean opened the back door to permit them into a small mudroom big enough for a large metal farmhouse sink, a washer and dryer, and a coat rack mounted against the wall. It took a careful dance for both to edge in and close out the storm, and even more, fumbling when they started peeling out of their wet, soiled layers.

 

“J-jesus Christ, that rain is cold.” Dean shivered, elbow almost jarring into Castiel’s shoulder when he stripped off his flannel over his head.

 

 Castiel was out of his coveralls in record time, banishing the sodden mass to the sink to tend to later. The rain had soaked him down to his shirt and jeans despite the brief run. “Not to mention enthusiastic.” He grumbled, plucking at his damp navy T.  


  
“I’ll throw stuff in the wash, go ahead.” Dean urged, starting in on his jeans without a second thought.   


  
They were about to be nearly nude in a room small enough to bump hips. No part of that sounded like a wise plan, but Castiel didn’t want to linger in his wet clothes any longer than necessary.

 

  
Resolving himself to trying to keep his eyes from wandering (again), Castiel pulled off his t-shirt and slipped his jeans down his legs. Dean took Castiel’s shirt and jeans from him and chucked them in the dryer with his clothes and threw in the coveralls with his more soiled work jacket in the washing machine.

 

“Come on, I’ll crank up the furnace.” Dean was only in a pair of loose red boxers that showed every bit of how his legs lightly bowed. It was something he’d vaguely noticed while between Dean’s legs—and that’s exactly the kind of road his mind didn’t need to be going down right now while he was just in his boxer briefs.

 

Bones jumped up from the couch as soon as they walked into the living room, eager to bump against their bare legs and snuff at their hands.

 

Walking into the open living room, Castiel was—surprised didn’t cover it. Dean’s home was adorable. Airy white walls and an overstuffed dark blue couch that sectioned off an area dedicated to the television. There were small pops of green and yellow, brightening up the space that made the entire first floor of the home exceptionally domestic.

 

“Your home is very nice, Dean.” Castiel bent to scrub his hands along Bone’s neck and head, chuckling as her tongue lolled in delight.

 

A touch of rose warmed Dean’s cheeks as he crossed into the kitchen, only separated from the living room by a long counter lined with barstools. “Thanks, I gutted the interior after buying it so I just figured—why not go all out, I guess? I’m still finishing up the basement, not as much time on my hands anymore.” He explained, pausing to whistle at Bones to eat after he set a bowl full of kibble down.

 

“Sorry girl got distracted by the cows.” Dean apologized, snorting softly when Bones all but fell into the bowl in her enthusiasm.

 

“Sam doesn’t take her to Kansas City with him?” Castiel took time to look around, noting the wall of pictures hanging under the stairs. Most of them were of Sam, some with Dean, others with both boys and an older man that wasn’t John Winchester. There was a stray one of the late Winchester, along with a fair-haired woman that Castiel assumed was their mother.

 

Dean walked back, running his hand up the length of his arm as he peered at the thermostat. "Nah, he did at first, but he felt bad not being able to let her run around like she used to. I knew when he got her I’d be the one saddled with her in the end.” He smirked, casting fond eyes at the border collie as she inhaled her kibble.

 

“Let’s go upstairs; I’ll get you a change of clothes.” Dean was doing his best to keep his eyes focused, but Castiel caught his eyes trying to edge down more than once. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one struggling here, even if he wasn’t sure what the hell was going on in Dean’s head right now.

 

He should have let Dean go up after him. Walking up the stairs with Dean in front of him was a grave error. Castiel knew Dean had a nice backside just from the fit of his jeans, but this was criminal. If Dean had been wearing anything tighter Castiel was sure he would have a situation brewing downstairs that his underwear wouldn’t be able to hide.   


  
Dean’s bedroom was a little more like what he’d expected but far cleaner than what Castiel could claim of his own room. The melded scent of Dean’s cologne and the overall country wood scent that permeated the home clung to his nose, reminding him that it was that same smell he’d scented at the first press of his face against Dean’s jeans.

 

No matter what he tried, his mind kept getting pulled back to the forbidden, reminding him that this situation couldn’t be trusted. Dean had been an absolute flake about what had happened, and while Castiel hadn’t exactly been eager about it himself, his sexuality wasn’t the secret one here.  


  
“Mind if I wash up?” He asked, desperate to extract himself from the situation, even for a moment.

 

Dean paused by an old, newly-painted antique dresser. “Yeah sure, it’s just there,” He pointed to the door across from the bed.

 

Castiel retreated to the bathroom, breathing a momentary sigh of relief at getting a partially shut door between them. What was he doing here? How had he ended up being mostly naked in Dean Winchester’s bathroom when he’d sworn to himself after that uncomfortable car ride he wouldn’t bother trying to puzzle the man out?   


  
Splashing warm water over his face and down the back of his neck grounded him a little, anchoring him against the spell of the storm.

 

The door creaked open, “Figure these would… fit.” Dean leaned against the doorframe, a bundle of folded clothes half-held out in his hands. Dean’s eyes had tracked from where Castiel drew hands down the back of his neck, clearing away some of the water before it dripped on the floor.

 

Castiel could imagine the sound of Dean swallowing as his eyes trailed an errant drop that had spilled down the nape of his neck to run down the curved track of his spine. Dean pinned him in the twin suns of his eyes again, holding him there.

 

He’d talked a big game to himself when he came into the bathroom. How he’d stay until the storm broke, and they’d find some way to pass the time downstairs, or if he could even snag a nap on Dean’s couch. He’d underestimated his weakness when Dean looked at him like that. When heat burned in Dean’s eyes, the indignance of Dean’s hesitation outside of lust didn’t seem so insulting. Even if Dean wanted to pretend like things didn’t happen between them, it didn’t matter to Castiel right now. All he could remember was the sound Dean made when kissed just right or the obscene sound of Dean’s lips wrapped around his cock.

 

Castiel didn’t wait for Dean this time. It frustrated him how attracted he was to Dean, but this time around he knew Dean wanted him back. The prior fears of getting their signals crossed were gone, replaced by the surety of brief practice.

 

The kiss was as blistering as the last, hands snapping up to tangle in hair or grip at the back of their necks. Dean was the one to deepen the kiss this time, diving his tongue against Castiel’s until he could sate himself in the warmth within.

  
  
There was no tangle of work clothes between them, only delectably bare skin and the thin layer of their underclothes. Dean’s skin was a sun-touched expanse of freckles, soft and muscled in all the right places under Castiel’s hungry touch.

 

Dean gripped him by the hips, forcing him to take a step after until Dean had backed himself up against the tall, plush bed. 

 

A low groan rumbled from Castiel’s throat when Dean’s hands traveled south, pressing against the fast-tenting front of his boxer briefs. “God, I wanted you like this.” It still surprised him how verbal Dean was, but the words scorched his skin, bringing a hard twitch of interest down south.

 

“Yeah?” Castiel murmured, head dipping to mouth against the swell of Dean’s Adam's apple. There was genuine question within because he truly hadn’t known Dean wanted to continue whatever they’d started in the barn that day.

 

 Dean sighed into Castiel’s mouth, body undulating slow to grind his broader form against him. “Fuck yeah. Wanted you to—” Dean shivered when Castiel’s mouth trailed lower, dipping into the small valley of his pectorals,”—see you out of those jeans.” His breath hitched when Castiel’s mouth found one of his nipples, hands tangling in Castiel’s damp hair with a quiet note of appreciation. “Want to know what’d feel like to… to have you fuck me.”

 

Castiel blinked, taken off guard. Maybe it was the product of his upbringing showing, or maybe he was more prone to stereotypes than he thought, but he had _not_ been expecting that out of Dean’s mouth.

 

Dean noticed his momentary surprise, “Shit— …I mean... if that’s your thing, I— “Red was creeping underneath the freckles on his cheeks, and his eyes darted off to look anywhere but down.

 

Dean wanted him to fuck him into the bed and that—that had to be one of the hottest things he’d ever heard, let alone experienced. “I would be _very_ interested in doing that.” Castiel quickly clarified, leaning up to catch Dean’s eyes again to focus him there. “Is that… do you really want me to—?”

 

A nod had a fresh jolt of arousal coursing low. “Have you ever…?”

 

Dean ducked his head with a soft, embarrassed chuckle.” I’ve had girls use, you know, their toys and stuff on me. Some, uh, _attached_.”  Dean was admitting to getting pegged, and now that the image was in Castiel’s head he was ashamed to admit that was likely to be conjured up anytime he found himself waking up hard and frustrated.

 

 Castiel sucked in a breath to keep himself from tipping Dean over on the bed and ravishing him then and there. He’d only topped once before, and he knew he was going to have to be careful not to get ahead of himself. Castiel wanted this to be good for the both of them, especially after hearing that Dean had desired this for days despite being so hot and cold.

 

“I’d hate to not fulfill your daydream then,” Castiel growled against Dean’s jawline, satisfied to feel Dean’s breath flutter against their pressed chests.

 

“Fuck...” Dean breathed, pupils blown wide. “I—I have lube and stuff in the drawer.”

 

Castiel slid his hands down Dean’s waist, catching the hem of Dean’s boxers to draw them down. Despite his steady hand, his heart was a jackrabbit within the cage of his ribs. He didn’t feel the confidence he was managing to exude when faced with a man even more inexperienced with another man than he was. His first-time bottoming had been bittersweet, sexually enjoyable but emotionally damaging in that the guy had very much wanted a one-and-done despite knowing him for a few semesters in college.

 

The bob of Dean’s cock against his awaiting handmade for an easy focus and a few shallow strokes had the small spike of nerves falling away from them both. Dean quickly divested him of his tighter boxers, peeling the clingy material down his toned legs from his morning jogs.

 

Instead of letting his touch linger Dean drew away, easing himself down onto the bed and wiggling back until he could reach the nightstand. The open drawer revealed the lube in question, along with a line of foils and a shallow box that held a probing vibrator that Castiel wondered where the hell Dean got around these parts.

 

“You’re something else.” Castiel was awed by this side of Dean, so unexpected and fiercely _hot_ that he was glad he was going to have to take time to work Dean open, or else this would be over way too soon.

 

Dean’s blush renewed with a vengeance, and he huffed a small cocky laugh.” Do you want to? Or should I?” He held up the bottle pointedly, and Castiel was quick to snatch it away.” Shit alright, so that’s a—“The false bravado was lost in a new kiss, one designed to swallow up the anxiety.

 

 

Castiel popped the top of the lube in the midst of Dean’s moan, not wanting him to focus on it as they shifted their positions to allow Castiel to bend between Dean’s splayed legs. The kiss parted long enough for Castiel to pour a liberal amount of lube into his palm, and then they were connected at the lips once more.

 

He palmed his oil-slick hand against Dean’s pert ass, slicking up the swell of his cleft and probing deeper to press against his tight hole. The first touch of lube-wet fingers drew a louder moan from Dean’s lips, and his legs widened, wiggling to raise up against Castiel’s hips in a quiet urge for more.

 

Castiel was going to assume Dean had far more experience with this aspect of sex than he ever did, even if he’d never been penetrated by a man before. Dean seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and Castiel wasn’t doing it nearly as quick as desired.

 

“Put your fingers in me, Cas.” Dean urged against his lips, hands looping around his neck.

 

 Castiel’s baby blues connected with Dean’s verdant when his index finger slid inside, eased by the excessive amount of lube that no doubt was leaking a trail down Dean’s ass and onto the bedspread.

 

Dean was a vision to behold under him, and Castiel was lost to it. The danger of the storm was all but forgotten as he worked Dean open, fingers working in and out of Dean until he had four fingers buried inside and splaying within. No crash of thunder or flash of lightning outside the window could draw him away when Dean was clenching greedily around his hand, desperate to keep his fingers inside but craving more.

 

“I’m ready, come on, Cas. Fuck me.” The begging was made a demand by the press of an open condom wrapper torn by Dean’s teeth pressed to Castiel’s chest.

 

Castiel withdrew, using his non-slicked hand to pluck the rubber from the foil. Dean sat up enough to aid him, hands eager to touch after Dean was forced to lie back and let Castiel carefully open him. Dean slid the condom down over Castiel’s straining length, palming against the heavy globes of his balls before pressing himself back to the bed so Castiel could do as he commanded.

 

 Castiel rubbed the excess lube against his sheathed cock, pressing his knees closer to Dean’s spread legs. “Tell me if I’m going too fast.” He was going to ignore the small smile that was partly smirked and mostly thankful on Dean’s lips. As much as Dean wanted to play this off like it was no big deal, he saw the way Dean glanced down between his legs or the rhythmic way his hands clenched at the bedspread.

 

His hands held Dean’s thighs, thumbing against the strong muscle and soft skin for a moment until he moved to use his right to help line himself up. He was torn between looking at Dean’s face as he entered him or watching their connection below. Dean’s face won out, eyes fluttering closed with a trembled breath that was pure rapture.

 

Dean was scorching inside, clinging around him with every inch he advanced until he was pressed flush against Dean’s round cheeks. They held still, Castiel trying to acclimate himself to the almost painful clench, and Dean the new sensation of having something hot and thick buried into his deepest reaches.

 

“G-god, Cas.” Dean keened low, stretching his arms above him to tangle into the pillows before he ended up making ribbons out of Castiel’s back.

 

“Good?”

 

Dean huffed a small laugh, legs tentatively wrapping around Castiel’s waist, a soft shudder prickling his skin at even the small shift of position sending shocks of sensation through them. “You just… want to hear me praise your dick.”

 

Despite himself, a chuckle bubbled up from him, and Castiel took a moment to rest his forehead against Dean’s chest. Even like this Dean’s attitude couldn’t be stifled.

 

“Maybe a little,” Castiel smirked back, leaning back up to draw his hips back as much as Dean’s legs would allow.

 

He set the pace slow at first, testing the waters of what they could take. Dean huffed panted breaths under him, hips beginning to wiggle and writhe against his in earnest.

  
  
“Harder.” Dean’s hands had slid up to the low headboard, bracing his palms against the leather to press himself back against Castiel’s thrusts until the slap of skin to skin was as loud as the storm.

 

 Castiel pressed Dean’s legs back, shifting their position so Dean was higher up on the bed and could brace himself easier. He fucked into Dean, the worry that maybe they were going too hard for this to be Dean’s first time bottoming with a man forgotten. Dean obviously knew what he could take, and Castiel was more than happy to give it to him.

 

“Sh-shit, yes. Fu-fuck, I’m going to come Cas.” Dean grunted, tearing a hand from the headboard to wrap around his cock. “Going to—!” He pumped until his breath stalled, body ceasing up as he came forcefully over his abdomen and chest.

 

He’d thought seeing Dean’s face when he’d entered him was one he’d never forget, but _this?_ Seeing Dean come apart sweat-slicked and flushed was something he’d horde away greedily because no one he’d ever slept with yet had looked so blissed out and enthralled.

 

Dean was clenching around him, milking out the last shocks of his orgasm and spurring Castiel fast towards his own. “Dean—!” Castiel didn’t know Dean enough to be as verbal as the man liked it, but Dean’s name tore from his lips unbidden the moment he felt the hard punch of his orgasm hit him.

 

He bit off a shout, bending until he could kiss Dean through the mind-blowing pulses of his peak emptying into the condom.

 

When the world righted itself, and their breath returned to their lungs, Castiel let his grip on Dean’s thighs relax, and Dean slowly rocked his hips against Castiel’s, just enough to linger in the afterglow without being overstimulating.

 

Kissing Dean was intoxicating, and even when their bodies stopped being connected, and the condom disposed of, their lips seldom parted. Only when exhaustion claimed them, and the sound of the waning storm lulled them into sleep did Dean withdraw, plunged into a hard-won sleep rooted against Castiel’s side.

 

 

 

A quiet snuffling against his calf returned him to the land of the living. The sound of early morning birds and general barnyard life faintly audible outside the window, confusing in that he was used to hearing the loud blaring of his alarm clock or his cat’s annoyed mewls first thing upon waking.

  
  
Bone’s cold nose touched his bare leg,” What th—“ Castiel nearly jerked upright, only to find a sold, warm weight pinning him to the bed. Dean was stilled dozed against him, blissfully unaware of Bone’s antsy wiggling at the foot of the bed.   


  
He swallowed, memories of the night flooding him with abrupt clarity. He’d sworn to himself he wasn’t going to go near Dean like that again, but he’d fallen into bed with him the first chance he got. Castiel groaned softly to himself, running a hand over his face in a vain attempt to banish the image of screwing Dean into the bed out of his mind’s eye.

  
  
Slowly, carefully, he extracted himself from the bed. Dean shifted in his sleep, brows pulling slightly until his arms snaked around a spare pillow and tugged it against his head and chest. It was... fucking adorable if Castiel was honest with himself, but those were dangerous waters. The last time he and Dean had fooled around, Dean looked like he’d immediately regretted it. He didn’t want to sit here staring at the man while he slept if Dean was going to wake up and kick him out.

  
  
Bones nosed him once more.  


  
Castiel grabbed the clothing Dean was going to let him borrow the night before from the bathroom floor and retreat downstairs. He didn’t want just to wake up and _leave,_ but he did have to go home and feed his cat and get ready for work. He didn’t even know if Dean would want to acknowledge him this early in the morning.

  
  
Bones was threatening to bark if she didn’t get the let out, and Castiel hurried to open the back door to let the dog take off through the sodden, wet grass. The scent of storm-rich air clung heavy, but the clouds had mostly dissipated, fading into innocuous puffs so unlike the thick tumultuous blanket that laid waste to the countryside hours before.   


  
Castiel left the back door cracked as he made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, a small smirking smile when he saw the ‘World’s Most Okay-est Big Brother’ mug waiting for Dean under his single-cup coffee maker. It was worn, chipped, and the handle looked to have been broken and glued back together lovingly.   


  
He’d downed half the glass when he heard feet on the stairs, and a cold sense of dread plummeted his stomach to the floor.   


  
Dean had pulled on a pair of jeans, but whether that was a good thing or not was still out for verdict because sleep-ruffled, barefoot, and shirtless, Dean Winchester was a sight to behold. The familiar pulse of ‘want’ thrummed briefly in Castiel’s chest. The spark flickered out the moment their eyes connected, and Dean’s cheeks lit up like Christmas lights.   


  
“Bones, um, wanted out.” Castiel started, slowly setting his glass down in the sink.  


  
 Dean glanced towards the mudroom, nodding slowly.” Oh yeah, sorry, she, uh, gets a little rowdy in the morning.” He murmured, rubbing a hand down his chest that was probably meant to be soothingly, but it only made it that much harder for Castiel to concentrate.   


  
Dean wasn’t letting his eyes return, even when he replied. Castiel got it, he did, he knew not to expect much different especially after Balthazar’s warnings, but it was still grating.   


  
Castiel rounded the island separating the rooms, reaching for his phone he’d left on a table by the couch the night before. As soon as the phone lit up, he cussed. He’d missed thirteen calls and twice as many texts from Gabriel, Meg, and even Balthazar. He hurried to open the latest one from Gabriel, sent only half an hour before, threatening to sic the police on him if he didn’t answer immediately. Dean was watching him, but Castiel decided to address his frantic elder brother before he could sort out whatever mess was going on here. He fired off a quick ‘I’m fine, was on an emergency call’ text, and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  
  
When he turned back to Dean, he paused. He’d noticed by now Dean tended to steal glances when Castiel wasn’t looking, when Castiel himself was far more _overt_ , usually because he was too wrapped up in his head to notice he was staring. He caught Dean giving him a sweep, and the sensation of being in the other man’s clothes, smelling like him, struck him.

 

“Everything… okay there?” Dean struggled, darting his eyes off as he skirted past Castiel to retreat to the coffee maker.  


  
  Castiel stifled the sigh building at the wide berth Dean gave him just to get to the kitchen. “Yes, Gabriel was worried.”  


  
“Oh.”  


  
He waited while Dean puttered around, feeling the tension grow more and more until he decided he’d had enough side-stepping the obvious. “What are you doing, Dean?”

  
  
Dean paused, blinking up from his coffee creamer,” I’m making—“

  
  
“No,” Castiel puffed the sigh he’d been holding, ”Not the coffee. What are you expecting from this?” He prompted, turning to fully face Dean, daring him to try and look away.

  
  
Dean wavered, coffee creamer drooping enough in his hand to splash a little on the counter. His lips parted with a quietly stunned ‘oh’, trapped in the headlights of Castiel’s eyes. He made a handful of aborted attempts before Castiel had enough.

  
  
“Never mind. I figured.” Castiel mumbled, turning away to retreat into the mudroom to gather his clothes from the washer and dryer. Bones streaked past him as he was tugging out his coveralls, stamping muddy puppy paws through the room and beyond.   


  
He debated retreating through the back door, but he didn’t want to be the one running away here. He was supposed to have more pride and dignity than to skulk out of the back door in someone else’s clothes. Luckily Bones' trying to coat the entire living room in mud proved a perfect distraction for him to skirt past Dean as the man dove for the dog with a towel to try and salvage the blanket thrown over the couch.   


  
Castiel’s foot hit the first step, and two things jumped out at him at once. One, Dean started to come after him and had realized the glaring ‘two’ around the same time he did. There was a third vehicle in the driveway, both too wrapped up in the awkward to have noticed the small, corn yellow truck drive up and nestle between their vehicles what had to of been moments before.

  
  
Garth Fitzgerald stepped out of his truck, megawatt smile brightening as soon as he saw both men standing on Dean’s porch. “Boy, do I know some people that are going to be _real_ glad you didn’t get swept up in the storm! Long time no see, Doc!” Which was a bold lie or a failed attempt at a joke, considering Castiel had just seen Garth a handful of days before.   


  
Heat crept up Castiel’s neck, and he adjusted the clothing in his hold, cutting his eyes back at Dean. If the man wanted to save face, now was his time to do it.   


  
Dean eyed him a moment, weighing his options. “Everything’s fine Garth. Ca—Doctor Novak had to help Dorothy last night, she was breech. Couldn’t have him drive home in that you know?” That was what he’d expected, but hearing Dean recant his name to ‘Doctor Novak’ stung.  


  
Garth looked at them; one hand shoved in his worn tan jacket as he fished out a stray peppermint to pop in his mouth. “Course! Everything go alright—Oh, who am I kidding, of course they did, Castiel kicks ass.” Usually, Castiel could enjoy Garth’s enthusiasm, but right now Castiel wanted to slink back to his car and die. “Gabe almost 'sic'ed the cops on you, you know! Called me instead since I live so close. Meg said the caller ID had Dean’s name on it, so super-sleuthing lead me here.” He puffed up his thin chest, obviously proud he’d been right.   


 

Castiel eased down the steps, edging closer to his car before the ‘super-sleuth’ could try and puzzle out anything else. “Thank you for your concern Garth, I just texted Gabe so he should be aware that I am, in fact, not dead.” He forced a small smile.  


  
Garth, never one to let a conversation go easily, walked right on up and opened his passenger car side for him to let Castiel deposit his sodden clothes down. “Gotcha, with that storm last night who knew! Glad nothing around here looks like it got blown away, poor Mr Fizzles and crew did _not_ like the storm, should have heard them— “He paused, head tilting as he eyed something on Castiel.”—Something take a swipe at ya Doc? You got a scratch,“His hand raised to poke against an errant nail-mark Dean must have left on him peaking up from the hemline of his borrowed shirt.   


  
Behind him, Castiel heard Dean accidentally skip a step descending the stairs and almost trip down the rest of him. He back-glanced in time to see a wince pace over Dean’s face as he straightened, right hand briefly braced against his hip. With how hard they’d ended up going last night Dean had to be sore.

  
  
“I do work with animals, Garth.” Castiel reminded with a curtness he hadn’t meant to let slip.

  
  
Oblivious, or forgiving, Garth continued. ” Right, kinda forget you work on little critters too, when you’re always traipsing around here on the farms.” Castiel felt a little bit of his irritation ease in the wake of Garth’s genuine nature.   


  
 Castiel rounded his truck to make sure everything was still secure, “I should get going, I have... ‘critters’ to get to after all.” He forced another small smile, hand raising to answer Garth’s far more enthusiastic wave.

  
  
“Drive safe, Doc!” Garth rounded on Dean, tugging him into a flurry of questions about Dorothy. For once, Castiel was thankful for the man’s unabashed friendliness so he could duck into his truck and retreat down the driveway before anything else could be said. He didn’t need to hear excuses or explanations of ‘experimenting’, not after the way Dean clung to his shoulders when he was driving into him. Or the press of Dean’s lips against his shoulder when they slept. Castiel didn’t want to have to acknowledge that he’d been hoping against hope for something more, even when he knew he was going to be disappointed.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write
> 
> And of course go to: https://space-wolf.com/ for beautiful art!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes to the clinic to reconcile. When a pleasant night out leads to an encounter, the two have to navigate a tense situation.

The ticking of his wall clock was starting to grate. Castiel sighed, shifting in his chair nestled behind a cramped desk in his small back office. Paperwork was scattered to the wind across the room, and the tiny window unit a/c was already struggling to keep up with the warming weather. He needed to replace it, but that was just another thing on the long list of ‘eventualies’.

 

“Cas! I’m running down to the corner; sandwich?” Meg leaned into his office, long hair piled up in a bun. Castiel liked when she wore her hair like that, in disarray, but contained. It brought out her cheeks and jawline.

 

“Yes, thank you.” He smiled softly. Megan and Balthazar gave him wide berth lately, and he didn’t blame them. He’d been moody for the past week since the _fiasco_ , and they finally settled on staring instead of needling him to tell them what happened. That was some improvement. At this point Castiel was just avoiding the inevitable, he had to tell them, they were his best friends. Still, it made his stomach churn with a mixture of emotions he wasn’t going to analyze any time soon, too afraid of what he’d find there.

  
“Usual—“ Meg paused, back glancing to the door when the small bell chimed overhead. “Welcome, may—Oh shit.” Castiel’s brows furrowed, Meg had a mouth on her, but she _usually_ reframed from cussing in front of owners and their pets.” Cas, it’s for you, pretty sure.” Meg leaned up, eyeing him with a Cheshire grin as she backed towards her desk. There was no way she would take off for the corner store now, not with the look of mischief in her eyes.

  
  
Castiel leaned up to peer out the door and nearly sent his files scattering to the floor. The last person he expected to walk into the office in the middle of the day was slinking closer to his door, hands in his pockets with no sign of Bones in tow. Not a ‘business’ call then.

  
“Hello, Dean.”

  
  
Dean’s lips tried for a smile, but it failed as he gave Meg a brief nod and slid past the doorway. "Hey, can I, Are you busy right now?” A pink tongue peeked to wet his full lips, a simple little action that Castiel wished wasn’t so damn attractive. It made it difficult to maintain the small scowl that had settled in his expression.  
  
“No, I’m not busy. Come in.” He could have refused, but he was too curious to know why Dean was here to banish him so easily. “What are you doing here?”

  
  
Dean’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, looking vaguely nauseated. Castiel’s brow quirked a little higher when Dean closed his office door, cutting off the sharp taps of Meg’s keyboard or the sound of Balthazar milling around the patient care space tending to the animals in residence.

  
“Look, about… what you said before. What I wanted out of—you know—everything.” Dean hesitated, staring down at the free chair in the small space a moment as if he was deciding if he was going to stay that long. Finally, he sat, plunking down in the old office chair with the weight of the awkward conversation pulling him down into his boots. “It’s—Jesus, this area is shitty, you know? Friggin’ Walt and Roy are disgustingly… normal.” Castiel was sure this was going to lead up to the ‘can’t we just keep this on the DL’ that he’d heard out of so many others when he was in college. He’d seen too many friends back then stumble through strained ‘relationships’ with that dynamic.

 

“Yes, Dean, I’m quite aware of the rampant homophobia in the area,” Castiel grumbled, wishing he would just get on with it. ” Considering I was born and raised here. Do you have a point?”

  
The pressure had Dean squirming in his chair, jaw flexing with barely contained anxiety. “Shit, alright, I’m not going to bitch out here.” He sucked in a brief, mentally fortifying himself. ” It’s just— _no one_ knows I’m... apparently bisexual. I googled it after we talked and—yeah, that fits. I just thought, you know, people were one thing or the other. Hell, how was I supposed to know?” Dean mumbled, scrubbing his hand up through his hair until the short spikes were a mess. “The only person that ever knew I fooled around with guys moved away. Shit, you knew Charlie, right? Red hair in high school and liked... Fuck, sorry, that isn’t really relevant.” Dean was rambling at this point, but Castiel was still stuck on him admitting to being bisexual.

  
  
Castiel hadn’t been expecting that. Of course, by now, he didn’t know why he’d even tried to predict Dean anymore, because Castiel was surprised by the man at every turn. Dean was never what he _expected_ out of this place. These people. People he thought he’d known to a T after his less than ideal childhood.

  
  
“…Dean?” Castiel prompted, gentler this time in an attempt to get Dean back on track.

  
  
“I’m just trying to say, I don’t have a lot of… experience with all this. I say ‘fooled around’ but nothing outside of, God, blowing guys at the back of a bar or drunk hand jobs. Too afraid of getting caught and it getting back to my dad back then.” Dean tore on, caught in a momentum he couldn’t slow from lest he lose all his nerve. “I’m sayin’ all this because when you asked me that, I had no fuckin’ clue how to answer that. I…” He trailed a moment, brows furrowing. ” I’m doing this back-ass-wards but, you want to grab a beer at the Bunker this weekend?”

 

Castiel’s was sure his eyebrows floated off his face, or he’d entered some kind of alternate dimension because he was pretty sure Dean had just— "As in, a date?” He asked dumbly, “Are you asking me on a date?”

  
The endearing bloom of pink he’d grown to appreciate on Dean’s cheeks quickly warmed the freckled skin. ”Y-yeah? Is that okay?”

  
A small smile replaced the bemused frown Castiel sported since Dean’s arrival. A burst of butterflies tore through his stomach, “I would… I would like that, very much.” Dean was proposing they went out _in public_ and that was as good as announcing he was ‘gay’ as far as this town was concerned. If things didn’t work out, Dean could very well be committing the social suicide Castiel and the rest of his small group of friends had when they’d decided to pursue their truths, bigots be damned.

  
  
“Are you sure about this Dean? What about your friends?” As happy as he was, Castiel didn’t want this decision to be made lightly if Dean felt like he had something to prove.

  
A small puffed breath briefly flared past Dean’s nose, and he bobbed his head.” Those guys at the bar aren’t friends, they’re assholes. I think, nah, I’m pretty sure my actual friends will be okay with it. Besides, I kicked Walt’s ass in high school, I can kick it again.” Dean grinned a smile that light up a room, and a fraction of Castiel’s hesitation eased.

  
“Can I have your number then?” Castiel ventured, digging into his pocket to produce his phone with a nervous little quirk of his lips.

  
“O-oh, yeah totally. I have unlimited texting, to keep up with Sam, you know, so, if you ever wanna…” Dean reached for his own to hand it over, smiling all the way to his eyes despite his continued word vomit. It was cute that Dean talked out of nerves. Castiel had figured out by Dean’s retorts during sex he liked to work out his issues through snark, but it was amusing to see that extended to just talking in general once he finally opened up.

 

“I do too, for Gabriel.” Castiel snorted softly, knowing what it was like to have a sibling or five. Not that he had any contact with Michael or Lucifer anymore, they had burned that bridge thoroughly after Castiel came out.

  
Dean echoed a huff of his own, “I bet.” Everyone remembered Gabriel, even if they only met him once.”

 

There.” Dean’s smile renewed when the phones exchanged hands again. On cue, his phone buzzed, and a furrow scrunched up his face. “Oh right, um, I gotta get going. I’m supposed to be picking up a part for one of the milk pumps but this has been knocking around my skull all week and I drove by—Didn’t want to take the coward’s way out again.” A bit of tension creased around his eyes. At least Dean had been as off-kilter as he had been this week.

 

“Thank you, Dean. I’m… glad you came in.” Castiel smiled back, standing to see him out.

  
  
As soon as Dean pulled open the door, Meg and Balthazar scrambled back, not even bothering to have the decency to look guilty.

  
  
“ _Told you so_.” Balthazar announced with a shit-eating-grin, popping another blueberry in his mouth from the small baggy he’d taken from his lunch. “If they’re not gay, most people are bi.”

  
Meg rolled her eyes, “Don’t make a mockery of my sexuality, Paddington.” She sneered, cutting her eyes to Dean, “Our maybe I should say _our_ sexuali- “

  
  
“-That’s enough. Weren’t you going to go get lunch?” Castiel griped, pinning the meddling twosome with a piercing stare he’d learned from his elder brother Michael. Being on the receiving end of it as a child had sent him running every time.

 

At least this time they had the presence of mind to look chastised. “I’m going, geez, ruin all my fun. Good for you, Freckles, welcome to the club.” Meg went to snag her purse from the counter, waggling her fingers as she dashed out the door.

 

Dean stuck his hands back in his pockets with a wry smirk, “They your employees or spies?” He chuckled, thankfully not as angry as Castiel was that the other two had been listening in. Or he was just better at hiding it.

 

“Little of both, sweetcheeks, little of both.” Balthazar ducked back into the breakroom before Castiel could enact his wrath, sniggering every step of the way.

 

Sighing, Castiel walked with Dean towards the door. “Sorry about them, they mean well… Mostly.”

 

Dean shifted his weight a little on his feet, “I get it, Charlie would have done it, too.” He smirked, nostalgia clouding his eyes with a wistful exhale.

 

“Where did she move to?” Castiel remembered the fiery-haired girl that had more than once bartered for some of his mother’s homemade muffins in grade school, he’d been more than happy to share, but she’d insisted on equal trade every time. He’d never had the heart to tell her he’d never cared for Skittles.

  
  
“California. Can you believe it? Programmer now works in a trendy company and everything.” There was pride in Dean’s voice despite the way he’d rolled his eyes on ‘California’.

 

“That’s amazing, looks like she actually made it out.” Sometimes Castiel would admit to bitterness at having to return, but he enjoyed being able to spend so much time with his youngest brother and sister. “No plans to visit?”

  
Dean hesitated a moment, and Castiel feared he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. He didn’t even know if Dean and Charlie were still friends anymore, but he’d assumed with how Dean had been speaking of her. “I should do that, yeah. She’d like that. But can you imagine me in _California?_ ” Dean shuddered dramatically. Another message buzzed in his pocket, and Dean went for the door, “Gotta go, but, text me later? If you want?” He waited in the doorway, not wanting to dash off just yet. Not without confirmation.

  
“I will.” Castiel promised, smile softening. “I want to.” Dean’s beamed another grin and turned to walk out, sauntering back to the Impala with an adorable bounce to his step.

 

Behind him, Balthazar pouted from the doorway of the breakroom. ” No fair, he looks good coming and going.”

  
  
Castiel leveled his eyes, intent on the coffee pot. “I’m sure you won’t ever know what he looks like _coming_.” He smirked, reaching to snag a blueberry as he walked by, satisfied with the abrupt sputtering that had Balthazar trying to choke down a bite of fruit.

 

Sometimes it was best to beat them at their own game. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Honeybee mewled, snuffing her displeasure at the light misting of cologne he’d sprayed against his skin. Castiel could count the times he’d worn cologne on two hands, but tonight called for it. He didn’t know why this date was more important than any other he’d ever been on—No, he did know. It was important because he was in his hometown, where the remains of his parent’s church still milled around. Where word could get back to his uncles. Where everyone knew not only him, but Dean as well. In some way, they were about to wage war with small-town ideals.

 

Shuddering a breath, Castiel glanced himself over in the mirror one more time. Gabriel swore the navy button up was the best one in his closet, and Meg had been so _gracious_ as to pick out his jeans for him a few hours ago. Neither one of them had been asked to butt in, but at least he’d been able to keep Balthazar from barging in with his two-cents—and worse. Balthazar had been mere moments away from letting him ‘borrow’ one of the man’s many, many V-necks, not that Castiel had ever wanted to.

  
  
His phone buzzed with yet another message in group-chat (Gabriel’s idea).

 

[Stop primping and go feel up some Winchester ass. I have it on good authority that said ass is _very_ shapely.] Castiel might be paraphrasing a bit on Gabriel’s liberal use of chat speak and emojis, but he got the gist of it.

  
  
[And how do you know that?] Castiel typed as he made his way down the stairs. The bar was within walking distance thankfully, like most of the town if he was feeling up to it.

 

[Tessa—you know Tessa, teaches at the high school? She dated him before and boy does she get mouthy at the faculty Christmas party~]

 

Castiel rolled his eyes. [Good night Gabriel]

 

[Use protection!]

 

Shuddering, Castiel shoved his phone into his pocket and stared down the length of main street once he rounded a corner. His heart quickened the closer he drew to the Bunker. Once he was through the door there would be no going back. Many of the locals already made snide remarks but most kept to themselves, that would surely change after he was seen out tonight. He’d been prepared for the ramifications of it, but he still worried Dean didn’t know the scope of the situation.

 

His hand descended on the doorknob with a now-or-never breath, squaring his jaw as if he was marching off to war.

 

Castiel didn’t immediately see Dean when he walked in. There was a fair amount of people out, which wasn’t uncommon for a Friday night. Certainly, more people than there had been last week, but he was pretty sure there had been a game at the only high school in town that night. Around here school baseball, basketball, and football games passed as high entertainment for a Friday night.

 

“Cas.” Dean called him from a corner booth as he stood. The bundle of nerves nestled in Castiel’s stomach shattered when his eyes met Dean’s. Dean was all smiles, sheepishly motioning him to the other side of the booth. Castiel had seen him out of ‘work clothes’ a few times, but he’d never seen Dean in ‘going out’ clothes. The light-colored Henley stretched over his chest was distracting in the best of ways, and even though Dean was just wearing cleaner, better cut jeans than he usually did, he looked amazing in them.

 

“Hello, Dean.” He slid into the booth and Dean sat back down. “How’re you?”

  
  
For some reason, this got a chuckle out of Dean, “Oh, you know.” He replied with a cheeky grin, casting his eyes around the bar. “You?”

 

Castiel shifted a little, darting his eyes briefly around to confirm for himself that no one was watching them.” About the same.”

 

“Beer okay?” Dean asked as he gestured to the bottles set on the table, but Castiel’s attention was still hovering around the bar. “Hey—" Dean reached, gently tapping his fingers on the table.”—It’ll be fine. Chill, you look wound up.”

 

Huffing a small, trembling laugh, Castiel eased a little into the booth and grabbed the dark bottle in front of him.” That’s one way to put it. I’m sorry Dean, I’m just not used to—Well, as the locals would say it, ‘throwing it in people’s faces’. My friends and I attract enough attention together… it feels different.”

 

Dean’s brow quirked, and he took a swig of his drink, “You haven’t dated around town, then?”

 

Castiel snorted, “No. Not since Dallas. To my knowledge, only Balthazar and I are openly ‘out’ as gay men in Dighton.”

 

Another swig later Dean smirked slightly,” I dunno about gay but I know of two or three dudes that have explored other pastures if you know what I mean.” He gestured for one of the waitresses,” Guess they’re quieter about it than I am—was.”

 

A soft smile smoothed over Castiel’s lips, but he let the conversation drop when Rebecca, the waitress, stepped over to them. The Bunker only made stereotypical bar food, but it was done well. A burger right about now sounded like just the remedy he needed, and maybe a couple more beers.

 

Once the initial jitters of a new situation had passed, conversation came easy. Castiel enjoyed hearing about Dean and the work he’d done on the Ranch, and Dean was just as eager to hear about his job and some of the seminars he’d attended that pertained to large livestock. It felt a little silly to talk about work practices on a date, but when it was something they both enjoyed, Castiel didn’t think it was so faux pas.

  
  
“It’s the best way to eat it! Trust me.” Dean showed him how to stack his French fries on his burger to get a few fries with every bite, enthusiastically telling Castiel his mother had shown him when he was little, and Dean did it that way ever since. The faintly forlorn warmth in Dean’s smile when he’d said as much made Castiel’s heart clench. His mother had died not too long ago, but he hadn’t the same emotions towards Naomi’s death that Dean had for his mother. For Castiel, it had almost been a relief, which made him feel all the much worse. There had been little love for him spared by that woman, only given in odd spurts in moments that left Castiel confused and lost. She’d written him off as dead when he’d come out before leaving for college, refocusing her efforts on the smallest children since her grown children had turned out so ‘disappointing’, according to her own scathing tongue.  That she’d died before she could infect Samandriel and Muriel with even more poison had been a blessing.

 

“So, your brother and sister live with you?” Dean asked around a mouthful of burger, something that would usually gross Castiel out, but Dean’s chipmunk cheeks were cute enough for him to allow it.

 

“No, they stay with Gabriel and Kali, though they sometimes come with me on calls, and stay the weekend, mainly for the cat.” Honeybee only liked the thirteen and ten-year-old, and him, mostly.

 

Dean laughed, finishing up his last bite and chugging down the rest of his second beer. “Yeah? Man, I remember those days... Dad was always busy at the shop, so it was just me and Sammy most the time.”

 

The topic of family between them was a depressing one but having someone that knew the pain that came with a tense background felt nice instead of having to shoulder extra baggage. Dean was remarkably resilient for what he described in throw-away sentences, and he was in practical awe whenever Castiel described his strict upbringing.

  
“ _No shit_?! God, we were scraping by, but Dad let us have internet at least. Shitty as it was.” Dean whistled low as they nursed their third beer, leaning into the booth and letting the outside noise fade away.

 

“We weren’t allowed any outside ‘pollutants’. One time, Michael had to pick Anna up from school when she had her monthly and I found the bloodied laundry and was inconsolable for three days because I was _convinced_ she was dying. Poor Megan had to explain it to me because my Mother absolutely refused to. I would also like to point out the only way I ever knew _anything_ was Megan and Gabriel sneaking onto the library computers.” Castiel shook his head, thinking it amusing now, but it had been truly distressing when he was young. He’d always been the last to know anything, even things children his age had considered ‘common knowledge’.

 

“Damn, I thought I was raised strict, but that’s—that’s friggin’ nuts!” Dean paused, biting down any other comment with a nearly audible gulp, “I... didn’t mean, you know—I get that’s how some people do things but no offense or anything.”

 

Castiel shook his head, leaning in as if he was about to impart a dark truth. “It _was_ nuts, Dean. No offense taken. My mother certainly had a few too many nails loose.” Dean burst out into a fit of laughter, “What?”

 

“I think you mean ‘few too many screws loose’, Cas.”

 

Frowning, Castiel turned the phrase over in his mind. “I suppose I do.” He smirked, huffing a chuckle of his own. He was used to getting euphemisms and colloquialisms wrong since he was a child for the same reason he’d been in the dark about everything else. How Lucifer and Gabriel had managed to become so worldly he’d never know. Michael had stayed in a permanent state of stuffiness that far surpassed his own. Muriel and Samandriel were growing to be much better adjusted with his and Gabriel’s interest, but he could see the painfully awkward habits in his younger siblings he’d displayed as a child.

 

 

 

The night wore on until the remaining crowd was the regulars deep into their eight-dollar beer pitchers.

 

Dean’s hand crept over the table top as they talked, winding their path through idle chitchat and serious topics with no set pace. “I guess I didn’t really think about _it_ as a possibility until I was in middle school. Kids can be real shits and I remember some kid calling one of my friends a fag, and like, I’d heard that from my dad but didn’t know what the hell it meant.” Dean shrugged, their hands no more than a length apart at this point. “I looked it up online and hoo-boy, was _that_ a mistake. Same jackass hassling my friend saw me on the computer at school and tried to rat me out. I had to lie and say it was already pulled up. Figured it was a bad thing.” He shook his head, lamenting the memories now. ”...Hell, still thought it was a bad thing forever. But with Charlie, hearing about you and your friends around town. Kind of made me think it wasn’t bizarre, you know?” Dean closed the distance, resting his broad hand over his own, the warmth of the rancher’s work-rough hand enveloping.

 

“I understand. I didn’t know anyone growing up, not until Meg asked one day in high school if I was gay. The only reason I knew what it was is because of my mother’s vehement condemnation.” Castiel smiled at the touch. No one had ever held his hand on a date before.

 

In the bubble of their booth, away from the bar and the immediate din of the tipsy or downright drunk, it was easy to forget where they were. He was content to talk with Dean like this, the low drone of their conversation pleasant over the twang of ‘Wagon Wheel’.

 

Castiel’s bottle tipped to his lips around a chuckle at one of Dean’s quips and a sharp whistle to their left startled him into sucking it down the wrong pipe. He sputtered, glaring towards the sound. Dread flooded his system when he saw Walt and Roy round the bar and make their way towards them.

 

“Shit.” Castiel hissed about the same time as Dean, parting their hands from the table to turn a little in the booth to get a bit of ground.

 

“The hell you doin’, Winchester?” Roy snapped, clutching his beer glass as he wobbled a little, more steeped than the man at his right.

 

Castiel could hear the creak of Dean’s jaw it was clenched so tight. They should just get up and leave, knowing Walt and Roy, anything could happen. The idiots never knew when to stop.

 

“Go back to drinkin’.” Dean warned them off, leveling a steely-eyed glare at the duo.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t listen to friggin’ nancies. Since when do you suck dick, Winchester? You fucked my sister in twelfth grade.” Walt scowled, though which he was angrier about was anyone’s guess.

 

Dean had stood by this point, and Castiel eased out of the booth after him, flanking at his side. “Maybe you should talk to your sister then.” Dean threw back with a cocky grin.

 

Inwardly sighing, Castiel interjected before things could escalate.” We’re minding our own business, is this necessary?”

 

Roy reached out to jostle Walt, gesturing back towards Dean and Castiel with a cruel scoff.” Can you fucking believe this man? Fag converts a pussy-hound and thinks he can run the place. Gays think they run the damn country now.”

 

Walt sniffed, setting his beer down on a nearby table. ” Maybe I should remind you they don’t, Novak.” He took a step forward, but before Castiel could square himself up Dean had stepped in front of him.

 

“Turn around and march, or you’re going to regret it,” Dean growled with ferocity that might have been thrilling had they not been in such a shit situation.

 

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do, Dean? Fight me? Jesus man, the hell this happen? No wonder you didn’t back us up last time, you probably been screwing this fuck the entire time.” Walt’s nose curled in pure disgust, looking at them as if they were nothing more than vermin. It was a jarring look that Castiel never got used to, being viewed as _less than_.

 

Walt took another step forward, and things came to a head faster than Castiel was ready for. One moment Walt was reaching out for Dean to shove him, and the next Dean had knocked his hand away and stepped into his space. Walt reeled a little, too drunk to process the easy deflection without lagging behind. It was Roy that tried for a true strike first, stepping up to lash out with a wild punch. Dean had a few beers, but not nearly as many as Walt and Roy. He jerked back from the strike, growling out a breath before his fist flashed out to connect with Roy’s jaw. Roy went down in a heap, crumpling in on himself with a loud groan as he cradled his mouth and what was probably a few loose teeth.

 

Castiel slid up beside Dean before Walt could advance, eyes bright with promise that Walt would regret it if he tried to back up his fallen friend.

  
  “You’re inebriated and irrational. We could easily take you, then you will have the reputation of having us kick your asses. Go. Home.” He growled, fist clenching. Rarely did he resort to violence, but he’d enjoyed the self-defense classes he’d taken in College with a few of his small pod of friends. Being able to work out his frustrations on a mat or on a punching bag had been a welcome catharsis from the world he’d left behind in Dighton.

 

 Walt hesitated, casting his eyes between the two. Finally, he bent and roughly pulled up his friend and ushered him out, glaring hatred every step of the way.

 

“Fucking...  idiots!” Dean huffed, reaching to snatch up a roll of rough paper towels from the table to press to his split knuckles. “Can you believe that? I knew they were jackasses but—"

 

“Should I be callin' the police?” The bartender called from behind the bar, peering around the wooden pillar with the phone clutched in her hand.

 

Castiel waved her off, “No, it’s alright, it’s resolved, and we’re leaving.” He sighed, reaching for his wallet.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Dean warned, reaching for his pocket with the hand not dripping blood. He tossed a few bills on the table, daring Castiel to object.

 

A small smile returned to Castiel’s lips, and he gestured towards the door.” Thank you, Dean, come on, my house isn’t far, and I can look at your hand. Hopefully, it won’t need stitches.”

 

“Going to stitch me up, Doc?” Dean followed, leering despite the adrenaline slowly ebbing out of the system.

 

“I’m not a human do—oh,” Castiel realized this was meant as a flirt and bumped his shoulder against Dean’s, “Isn’t there a saying about a dog with a bone?”

  
“Aren’t you a vet?”

 

Castiel laughed, the tension of the exchange fading as they walked the dimly lit streets back towards his house.

 

Honeybee ‘greeted’ them with a petulant meow as she hopped up from the living room couch to skitter off deeper into the home, leery of strangers.

 

“You would have a cat.” Dean chuckled before breaking out into a laugh as Castiel cuffed him on the shoulder. “Just sayin’.”

 

“Come on, before you bleed on the carpet.” Castiel pushed him to the kitchen, backing Dean up against the counter while he rooted around for his first aid kit.

 

He unearthed the kit from a stray cabinet that most ‘miscellaneous’ items from the move had gotten shoved into. He’d meant to sort it out later, but later had turned into weeks, then months, and faded from his to-do list entirely after a while.

 

“Comfortable?” He smirked, turning back around to Dean shimmying his ass up onto the countertop, bowed legs swinging for emphasis.

 

“Little bit.” Dean grinned, holding out his hand for Castiel’s expertise.” Am I going to live, Doc?”

 

 Castiel unwrapped the soiled paper towel from Dean’s hand and started to lay out what he’d need from the kit. “Possibly. I might have to amputate.” He replied dourly, earning another volley of chuckles.

 

“Can’t have that. I need that hand.”

  
  
“You have another one.”

  
  
“Yeah but that hand doesn’t have any practice.”

 

“Practice?”

 

Dean’s brows waggled, legs scooting a little wider. Castiel huffed a laugh, shaking his head at the insinuation. “Have a lot of practice, do you?”

 

A small wince passed over Dean’s face when Castiel swiveled his hand to the sink and began to flush the wound with soap and water. “Well you know, everyone does it. If they don’t, they’re lyin’.”

 

“I didn’t until I was nearly sixteen.” It was true, but Castiel had just said it to see the look of abject horror dawn over Dean’s face.

 

“Damn Cas had I known that I’d probably made a move on you in high school just to see you squirm.” Dean snickered.

 

Castiel inspected the cuts, relieved to note that stitches weren’t necessary. “Negating the fact neither of us had admitted the obvious?”

 

Dean snorted quietly, watching Castiel finish wrapping a flexible bandage around his hand to keep debris from his knuckles after applying a thin layer of antibiotic cream. “Yeah… well, just need to make up for lost time. Right?”

 

Castiel closed the kit, dumping the paper towels and bandage wrapped into the trash. “Even after your friends turned on you?”

 

 Silence stretched in the darkness of the kitchen. Castiel turned to see Dean looking at him, brows furrowed. “Dean?”

 

“They weren’t ever friends, not really. Just… some guys to hang out with, I guess. Get drunk with. They’re idiots, and I’m tired of letting dipshits like Walt and Roy dictate how I live my life. Hell, I’ve never been a die-hard church type anyway. What’s it matter to anyone else who I sleep with? Or… you know— “Dean swallowed, “Like or whatever?”

 

Castiel eased between Dean’s legs, looking at the spattering of freckles across Dean’s sun-bronzed cheeks. “It shouldn’t matter.”

 

“Exactly. And if every homophobe has a glass jaw like Roy, I’d say we’re set.” Dean leaned forward, dusting his lips against Castiel’s.

 

Even luxuriating in the kiss, a niggling little question still pressed on Castiel.” Does that mean you… like me?” It felt juvenile to word it that way but considering neither of them had gotten the opportunity to express these sentiments as children, they were allowed this.

 

Dean ducked his head, breathing a chortle. “Yeah Cas. I do. Is that okay?”

 

Castiel melted a little more into the line of Dean’s body, “Yes. It’s—very much okay.” He curled his head into the grove of Dean’s neck, breathing the clean skin and cologne. ” So would you be interested in pursuing a relationship?” He wasn’t sure if that was too abrupt to ask but considering their start he wanted to make sure they were on level ground.

 

Dean turned his head, lips brushing at the sensitive skin of his ear, sending a ripple down Castiel’s spine. “Pretty sure that’s why I asked you out.” The vibration of Dean’s laugh bristled goose-flesh on his skin, jolting all the way down to his groin.

 

“Only after I fucked you into the bed.” Castiel dared to mouth Dean’s shoulder, warm lips brushing the curve of Dean’s neck.

 

Dean sucked in a soft breath, legs circling around Castiel’s waist. “Pretty hard not to want you around after that.” He teased, leaning to nip at Castiel’s earlobe impishly.

 

One thing about Dean he’d grown fascinated by was the easy duality to the man. Castiel had been convinced Dean was like any other around here, superficially charming, attractive, but little beneath it other than stale mindsets and a dire lack of ambition. But, oh, how wrong he’d been. Dean was wild in the best of way, unexpected. He’d known he was in trouble the moment Dean had thumbed his lip like he was seeing god while Castiel was sucking him off.

 

Castiel’s hands descended on Dean’s thighs, tugging him a little closer to the edge of the counter until their bodies were flush. Dean grunted softly, brows quirking as he wiggled his hips against Castiel’s waist.

 

“Aiming for something, cowboy?” Dean teased, teeth scraping at the tender flesh of his neck.

 

His hands crept up the hem of Dean’s well-fit shirt, tugging it up to let his hands splay against the warm, freckled skin. “Aren’t you technically the cowboy in this situation?” Castiel smirked, delighting in the rumble of laughter that shook Dean’s chest vibrating against his hands.

 

“You’re right. I can’t fall out of the saddle here.” Dean’s legs locked tighter around his hips, the press of Dean’s growing interested nestling right against his groin. A breath puffed past Dean’s plush lips, warming the groove of Castiel’s neck.

 

Castiel bit back a small groan, the faint ache fast growing into an earnest pulse of arousal with the small movements of Dean’s hips against his own. A small nudge of his hand and a tug later and he’d divested Dean of his shirt and tossed it aside.

 

The faint worry that they were about to get very distracted very quickly in his kitchen briefly passed his mind. Normally he wouldn’t be keen on stretching someone out where he prepared food, but Dean brought out the best and worst in him lately.

 

Dean’s hands were making quick work of his shirt to the point where his buttons groaned in protest, threatening to pop. Castiel’s shirt joined the growing pile at their feet, and he was already diving for Dean’s belt while they kissed.

 

The urgency was reminiscent of pawing at each other in the barn, but with the assurance of knowing that one another wanted it so direly. Even when Castiel opened Dean slow and sweet that night in the storm, there hadn’t been true intimacy. But this was born of desire melded with the giddy thrill of embarking on something new and potentially dangerous. Castiel had only ever dared once to call someone his boyfriend before, and it had ended awkwardly. He’d been too young, too new to his sexuality to understand himself let alone another person.

 

It took some expert shifting and a careful tug to get Dean’s jeans from under his ass and down to his ankles, but they managed. Dean’s cock pressed heavy against Castiel’s still-sheathed crotch, leaving a bead of slick against his lower stomach.

 

“Cas. Pants. Off.” Dean demanded against his lips, tugging impatiently at the fly of his jeans. The denim hit the floor seconds later with his boxers, kicked into the pile in the middle of the kitchen floor.

 

The first press of skin to skin was a relief as much as a tease. Castiel’s tip drug up the length of Dean’s cock, catching against the flushed edge of his cockhead before he pressed closer, slotting them side by side.

 

“Fuck, yes... Cas... You feel so good.” Dean moaned against him, arms slung around his shoulders to gain a bit of leverage to grind against him. The breathy half-formed grunts deepened when Castiel’s hands reached to cup the muscular globes of his new boyfriend’s ass, squeezing and spreading him against the counter.

 

“Did you like it last time Dean? Me inside you?” Castiel was never quite this vocal with any of his other scant partners, but Dean seemed to like it— _love_ it. “Better than the vibrator in your night table?” His hand dipped back far enough to drag his index finger against Dean’s hole.

 

Dean keened, arching into the probing touch so deeply Castiel had to brace himself to keep them from toppling over backward. “Sh-shit, yes! So much better... God, I always thought about it, but fuck it was so much better.”

 

“Good.” Castiel growled, closing his hand around their cocks. He pumped a few strokes, but it wasn’t quite— “Wait.” He gently pushed Dean back a moment to step away. He didn’t go far, stepping across the kitchen to grab a bottle from his cooking supplies. Satisfied, he popped the cap and poured a liberal amount of vaguely clear liquid into his palm, aware of Dean’s curious eyes on him.

 

Returning, his slicked fist closed around them once more, and oh—that had been what was missing. The oil dripped down their dicks, warming with every slow pull of his fingers.

 

“I-it that... Did you put coconut oil on our dicks?” Dean gasped, legs looping back around his waist.

 

“Are you complaining?” Castiel quirked a brow, leaning up briefly to peer at Dean.

 

Snorting, Dean dove forward, nibbling at Castiel’s lower lip with a daring growl. Dean joined a hand against his, closing the remaining space in the tunnel his hand created. Their hands pumped slow, fucking down over their trapped cocks with a wet squelch. Excess oil dribbled down Dean’s balls, pooling underneath him onto the plain white countertop.

 

 There was no way to last long like this, as much as Castiel wanted to bend Dean over the counter and take him, they were too keyed up at this point to be that patient. He wanted to see ecstasy overcome the man like he had twice before, greedy for more when the taint of misunderstandings had loomed in the back of his mind.

 

“Can you come like this, Dean? Come against me?” ‘Dirty talk’ was new territory for him, one that he didn’t feel like he was adequately versed enough in to know the vocabulary, but his college years had provided at least a decent dictionary to work with. “Look at us, Dean.” He leaned back enough from Dean’s lips to let the other peer down between them as Castiel’s hips ground against Dean’s, dipping low enough to drag his length against the trapped press of Dean’s balls.

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered, right hand bracing against Castiel’s shoulder in a desperate squeeze to drain the blood from the olive skin. “Fuck... fuck... Cas that’s... Don’t stop Cas, don’t fucking stop.” He panted, trembling under the effort of his approaching orgasm.

 

He jerked a moment later, whole body quaking into the pulses as Dean spilled liberally into the channel of their hands. The groan pulled from his lips was delayed, as if the pleasure that had smacked into with the force to stall his lungs had taken a moment to fully descend. Dean bent into the wave, arching back, ass sliding against the surface of the slick countertop against Castiel’s hips.

 

The added hot wetness of Dean’s come oozing down between their fingers coaxed the final bit of Castiel’s self-control from him. He came, rutting against Dean until the other was whimpering from the combination of aftershocks and overstimulation.

 

“God… damn.” Dean breathed, slouching against the wall that was thankfully devoid of any cabinets or hanging utensils. Castiel murmured a breathless ‘agreed’ against Dean’s chest, leaning forward to press his face into the small valley of Dean’s pectorals. “Mmm... screwin’ around in a barn, now this? Didn’t know you were so kinky, Doc.”

 

“I don’t know about ‘kinky’, but I am certainly open to exploration.”

 

“…They got all sorts of ideas on the internet.”

 

“So, I’ve heard.” Castiel echoed Dean’s teasing tone, and they broke down into a fit of exhausted giggles. He was going to have to disinfect the counter, and quite possible the cabinet below, but that was a small price to pay.

 

“Will you… spend the night?” He offered, not wanting Dean to walk back to the Bunker to retrieve his car after what had happened at the bar.

 

Dean wiggled against him until they could both right themselves.” Yeah, I’d um... kinda hoped, so I got one of the guys to let Bones out and feed her in the morning.”

 

“Oh?” Castiel slid his hands up against Dean’s hips to help him descend back to earth, the brief slide of their oil saturated bodies mind numbing. “I’d ask if you thought I was that easy, but apparently I am.”

 

“I’m not complaining. Now where’s your shower? I smell like a tanning salon.” Castiel would comment on why Dean knew what a tanning salon smelled like, but seeing the Winchester turn around and parade off through his house butt-naked was enough to earn his silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster strikes, and this time it isn't Dean that's having troubling processing. Castiel starts to push away under the guise of the upheaval, but Dean knows there is something more going on.

A loud mewl tugged him from a fitful slight. “Hrrgh, Honeybee?” Castiel grumbled, eyes dragging open in time to see Honeybee dart over the side of the bed, bellowing urgency as she went. The smell of smoke hit him a moment later.

 

“Dean!” He shouted, bolting upright and slapping out a hand to rouse the man sleeping next to him. They’d fallen into bed a few hours ago, freshly showered; Dean had borrowed a pair of his sweatpants which were a little tight in the back much to their amusement.

 

 Dean grumbled, but another smack had him sitting up with a gasp. ” What the shit, Cas—did you leave the stove on?”

 

Castiel was already scrambling out of bed, reaching to tug a shirt on from the edge of the bed and vaulting to the cracked door. “Honeybee!” He’d seen the cat run off, but there was no sign of her now. A few steps out of his bedroom and he could see the staircase, a bright, acrid glow flickering against the wall. Smoke rolled against the ceiling, growing thicker and darker with every passing moment.

 

“Honey—“ His shout died as the solid weight of the bedroom comforter came down around his shoulders, and Dean made to tug him back from the stairs by his waist.

 

“Cas! We gotta get out of here!” The steady alarm in Dean’s voice grounded him slightly.

 

Castiel reached to tug the comforter up his shoulders, darting over to the large window in what constituted as a workspace living room for his various hobbies. The narrow two-story had technically been divided into a duplex at one point, yet it had already been converted by the time he’d bought it. The staircase leading off the back into the squat garden was still there at the window where a door had once been, serviceable, if not a bit wobbly. He hadn’t tested the stairs in a while, but it was now or never.” Over here.”

 

He’d started to turn to return to his search, but Dean’s hand around his wrist tugged him back towards the window. “ _Dean_! I have to find Honeybee.” Castiel insisted, attempting to pull his hand from Dean’s grasp.

 

“Then leave the window open! But we have to get out of here _now_ Cas!” The sound of sirens in the distance sprang to life. Castiel had never been more thankful for nosey neighbors who had probably called nine-one-one the moment they’d seen smoke. They’d called the cops on a barbeque across the street before for smaller amounts of smoke than there must be now.

 

Castiel didn’t go easily, lingering at the window for as long as Dean would allow before the man had to bodily drag him through the window. They descended to the backyard, the bright flames slowly licking their way through the lower level, heating the night air.

 

They crossed the yard on bare feet to the front, hitting the sidewalk in time to see two firetrucks pull up. Firefighters swarmed from the trucks, running for the hydrant hookups and readying gear.

 

Castiel abandoned the blanket to Dean’s arms as he surged forward. His first few attempts to catch their attention were lost in the din of shouts, orders, and the crackling of flames. Resolutely, he reached to grasp the shoulder of a familiar face buried under the weight of his helmet. “My cat!” He yelled as soon as Benny faced him, “Honeybee is still in there!” Benny was a decent man, solid and strong with a personality as stalwart as his body. Cas had to hope.

 

Benny’s face scrunched with a moment’s confusion before he nodded and went running off across the yard towards the house.

 

“Cas, come on.” The comforter returned to his shoulders, gentler this time. Dean guided him away from the milling firefighters and to the middle of the street where neighbors began to creep from their homes in their pajamas. A street’s worth of curious eyes peered towards the growing ruin of his little, modest home. The weight of Dean’s arm around his shoulders was welcomed, and he shuffled to allow Dean under the perceived protection of the striped blanket.

 

It took what felt like years for anyone to approach. The heavy footfalls of a fireman approaching pulling Castiel from his glazed stupor. His heart leaped into his throat spying a towel-wrapped bundle in Benny’s arms, fearing the worst.

 

“Cat—Honeybee was it? Was hidin’ under the bed. Damn lucky. Looks fine to me but, you’re the vet.” Benny drawled with a small smile as he passed off a plaintively meowing bundle into Castiel’s arms, Honeybee made all the smaller by Benny’s bulk.

 

Castiel gingerly removed the towel from around Honeybee’s head, spying the upset cat staring up at him with accusation. A harsh exhale the combination of a laugh and gasp punched from his chest, buckling under it all now that Honeybee was safe in his arms. He sank to the ground, clutching his terrified cat to his chest with quiet coos while his eyes started filling with silent tears.

 

Castiel’s hand gently cradled her head, ghosting his fingers through the shock of hair haloing her squat, wide face. A petulant rumble vibrated her body, but her tongue darted out to slide sand-paper soft against his wrist.

 

He could take losing material things, but the fear that he might have lost the one companion he had for years had been too much. The cat was filled with piss and vinegar, but Honeybee was _his_ cat. The one to paw him awake in the morning, insistent on her kibble. The one to perch at the corner of the tub when Castiel showered, pawing at errant drops of water that slid down the shower curtain. Honeybee meant the world to him, and Castiel didn’t think he could have weathered the loss of her with any grace.

 

Dean sank down next to him, hand curling against his shoulders and neck, rubbing slow circles. “It’s okay Cas, she’s okay.” He murmured low, leaning to place a comforting kiss to his temple. He missed the looks nearby people gave them, their noses scrunching, or the immediate whispers garnered by the tender display. Castiel also missed the warning glare Dean leveled around them, daring anyone to say something when everything Castiel owned was possibly being burned to nothing.

 

Dean’s eyes settled on Benny who still stood close. They went far back, one of the few friends Dean thought might stick around after _this_ got around town. Relief wrote itself over Dean’s face when Benny glanced between the two, shock evident in his eyes, but he only nodded in reply. Benny might not have suspected, but he wasn’t one of the eyes around them that looked at them with disgust or judgment.

 

“You guys get on if you’ve got a place to settle nearby, we’ll call you when things… die down.” Benny rumbled, glancing back towards the house. The fire hadn’t consumed the entire home, but there were still pockets the firemen were busy fully putting out.

 

“Your brother lives nearby right?” Dean prompted, trying to bring Castiel back to the here and now.

 

Castiel swallowed, nodding weakly. His legs were a little shaky when he stood, but he felt a little sturdier now that he’d reassured himself Honeybee was alright. He wouldn’t know one-hundred percent until he could get her into the office, but she wasn’t showing any obvious signs of distress.

 

“Yes... on Hickory.” Castiel managed, shifting his hold a little to make sure the fussing cat was ‘comfortable’ in his arms. “I have a spare key to the house and the car on the carport. In a paint bucket.” Benny nodded and darted off to retrieve it since the carport was still firmly in the danger zone.

As they waited, Castiel’s eyes returned to the house, the front door burned away to a charred husk, and a bloom of crackled pitch stained the front portion of the house around it. He couldn’t muster the sigh that built in his chest, the sinking pit growing within.

 

“Got the keys, let’s go Cas.” Dean’s hand came to rest on his hip, a constant presence in the storm. “Don’t think Honeybee wants to be in the towel much longer.” The little mirthless joke brought a thin cracked smile to his lips, and Castiel went, walking away from where the narrow two-story puffed out fading dark plumes into the twilight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?” Gabriel collided into Castiel with enough force to nearly dislodge a loudly fussing Honeybee from his arms.

 

 Huffing, Castiel clutched his cat a little tighter to his chest. ”Be careful, Honeybee is upset enough.”

 

Gabriel looked wildly between them, taking in their sleep-ruffled hair and pajamas with a critical eye. “Castiel, what happened?” He stood aside to usher them both in. Dean’s hand hadn’t departed from Castiel’s shoulder yet.

 

As much as he wanted to explain what happened, Castiel rooted himself on the couch with a tired sigh and finally released Honeybee to the floor. Cinnamon and Sugar wouldn’t be thrilled with the new addition, but Gabriel’s corgis were, at least, behaved.

 

When it became apparent that Castiel wasn’t going to explain, Dean stepped in.” We... don’t really know why, but Cas’s place—it caught fire.” Dean explained sheepishly, aware of Gabriel and Kali’s eyes lingering on him like they were trying to figure out where he fit in.

 

Gabriel deflated, flopping down on the couch next to his little brother in a way Castiel was used to over the years. “Damn bumblebee, that’s… well, least you had insurance, right?”

 

A small smirk spread over Castiel’s lips. He’d expected about that much tact out of his brother, and it was oddly reassuring. “Yes Gabriel, I’m fully insured.”

 

“I’ll get Honeybee some new digs when the shops open up in a bit, you need to get some rest. Are you okay? You didn’t breathe any smoke, did you? You know that smoke is—“

 

“ _I’m fine, Gabriel_.” He insisted, silencing his brother’s fussing with a withering pout.

 

Sporting a pout of his own, Gabriel turned to address Dean. “How about you, Deano? Pretty little bits still intact? I’d hate to think my brother’s new boyfriend got dinged up already.”

 

Dean blinked, freezing from his descent into a squashy looking armchair. ”How did—?” He gathered himself, sinking down the rest of the way. ”I’m good. Everything was contained mainly downstairs.”

 

“Without Honeybee, who knows what would have happened,” Castiel added, watching as the cat hopped up on the table as Sugar trotted in from the back bedroom to give a cursory sniff.

 

“Cat’s good for something, I guess,” Gabriel smirked, reaching down to stroke a fond hand down Sugar’s fawn back.

 

 An exasperated sigh came from the doorframe as Kali pushed off from her lean and walked to join them in the living room, her red satin robe tied unabashedly low. “Gabriel now’s not the time to criticize his cat. Be useful and get the guest room made up.” She paused for the inevitable ‘Yes, dear’. ”Castiel, Dean was it? Can I make you something? Tea, coffee? Your nerves must be shot.” Kali wasn’t overly maternal in personality, but she knew how to better focus Gabriel’s attention and get things done.

 

Coffee sounded wonderful. By now, it was in the early hours of the morning, and a quick glance at the wall-clock said that dawn was about an hour off. The night felt like it had last an eternity, but it had only been a handful of hours since his life was turned upside down.

 

“How you holdin’ up?” Dean’s voice startled him. He’d almost forgotten anyone else was here. Cinnamon had joined them by now, setting at Dean’s feet and lolling her tongue in the kind of absently delighted look affectionate dogs adopted at just being near new people.

 

“I’m—“ Castiel wasn’t sure. He felt tired most of all. The ‘next step’ hadn’t fully solidified in his head. Nor had the loss of photos, small mementos, and the little knickknacks he’d collected here and there. He didn’t have a lot of personal effects, but there were some things he’d miss. “I’m glad Samandriel and Muriel are at Anna’s for the month, I wouldn’t want them to worry.” He said at length.

 

If Dean noticed the deflection, he didn’t call him on it, which Castiel was thankful for.

 

The rest of the morning passed in a murky haze of Gabriel fussing around the kitchen, insisting on a breakfast Castiel had no desire to eat. Kali went to work, Gabriel went to fetch supplies and a few changes of clothes for him, and Dean hovered in Gabriel’s absence. Dean wouldn’t leave him alone until Gabriel came back, and he didn’t know if he was more thankful or frustrated. Neither Gabriel or Dean thought it was a good idea for him to go to work today, even if he’d been sorely tempted. What did his house burning down have to do with the possibility that a sick animal might need his help? That and he wanted to take Honeybee in for a checkup. Gabriel threatened to drug his next cup of coffee, so Castiel opted to stay under house arrest for the time being.

 

Dean was reluctant to leave him. He seemed to be under the same illusion that Gabriel was, expecting him to crack or suddenly become overwhelmed. It took more than thirty minutes to convince the both of them to get Gabriel to drive Dean back to his car at the bar.

 

“I’ve got Gabriel’s cellphone number, so I’ll call later and see how things are, okay?” Dean had to of said this three times by now.

 

Suppressing another sigh, Castiel allowed himself the indulgence of lingering in Dean’s embrace a little longer than he should have. “I’m fine Dean. It was just clothes and a crappy downtown split level. Honestly.” He insisted, wanting once and for all for everyone to just stop fretting over him when he had a long day of phone calls to look forward to.

 

Dean hesitated in the doorway, not looking overly convinced. “Just—take it easy, okay?” There was a moment there where neither one of them was sure how to properly say ‘goodbye’ in this situation, considering their very new status, and the upset of last night. Dean took the initiative to solve it first, and he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Call you later.” He repeated and turned to join Gabriel in his squat little Volkswagen. Seeing Dean fold himself into the lime-green Bug at least brought a smile to his lips.

 

It was something.

 

 

* * *

 

He was avoiding Dean. He was conscious of it, Dean had to be aware of it by now. It had been a handful of days since _it_ had happened, and life still hadn’t taken on substance. The ‘whys’ of it were hard for him to detail. A gauzy sense of numbness settled in him, only alleviated when he had his mind on a task.

 

“I heard what happened! Well, damn near everyone in town has I ‘spect. Got out okay then—“ Mr Camden’s hard pat against his shoulder while he was trying to check the man’s German shepherd over was unnecessary. Everyone that stepped into his office the past days had something to say on his house burning down. Overnight, he’d become the town’s gossip, and everyone was carefully hedging around what they really wanted to say. How he hadn’t been alone when his house went up in flames. Who he’d been with.

 

Despite wanting the distraction of work, he ushered the man through faster than usual. The dog only needed his annuals anyway, otherwise, he would have never dreamed of being anything less than attentive. Balthazar was taking most of the bulk despite his protests, but Castiel was quietly thankful for it. The dull headache that was a constant presence of late was back, tugging at the back of his head in a low throb.

 

His new phone vibrated in his pocket for what had to of been the hundredth time today. He spared a quick glance to make sure it wasn’t his insurance agent. A small pang of guilt churned in his gut when the name ‘Dean’ light up on the screen, and he dropped it back in his pocket. He was going to call… eventually.

 

Castiel retreated to the breakroom for his fifth cup of coffee for the day, ignoring the blatant look of worry Meg was high-beaming over her computer at him.

 

The liquid diet of a week’s worth of coffee in one day kept him going until close, and by the time he was walking to his car he was ready to die on his feet.

 

“So, you are alive.”

 

A gruff voice startled him out of his singular focus, swiveling around to see Dean leaning against the hood of his Impala in the office’s small parking lot.

 

“Dean? What are you—“

 

“—You really can’t guess?”

 

Castiel sighed guiltily, shoulders slumping. ”I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just, it’s been hectic.”

 

Dean’s eyes softened, and he pushed off his car to slowly walk over.” I get that, Cas. Shit, I guess I never got the chance to talk about it or anything.” He was mumbling by the time he’d closed the distance, but Dean went on. ”I never told you my mom died in a house fire, did I? When I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I get it, I do.” Now Castiel felt even more awful than he had before. He had no idea, and Dean’s attentive nature the past week fell abruptly into place. Dean must have been scared shitless, and he’d still made sure they’d both gotten out safely.

 

Dean’s hands had trembled when they rested on his shoulders that night. Castiel had just thought it was the adrenaline.

 

Castiel’s eyes grew pained and he slumped further back against his car. ”I’m sorry to hear that Dean… If I would have known, I wouldn’t have—“

 

“Ghosted me?” Dean interrupted again with a small smirk, walking up to lean his hip against the truck a few lengths away.

 

“Yes. That.” Castiel smiled weakly.

 

“What gives, Cas? Are you having second thoughts or is it the house stuff?” Dean mumbled, looking down at his worn boots.

 

 Castiel swallowed, chewing the inside of his lip. “It’s… I got a call from the fire station after the fire. I went over, and they showed me—Dean, someone dumped a bunch of trash in front of my door and set it on fire… And they’d written ‘Fag’ pretty noticeably on my mailbox.” He watched the dawning horror seep into Dean’s expression meld with the rosy fire of anger.

 

“Are you fucking serious? Someone torched your house because of—because of us?” Many people had seen them at the bar that night, but Dean would have never thought the people in this town could be _that_ terrible.

 

Castiel fidgeted with the hem of his thin jacket he wore around the office, “They said it was most likely a prank that got out of hand. But yes, most likely. Considering the timing.”

 

Dean stood straight, running a hand along his jaw while he began to pace back and forth. It reminded Castiel of a dog pacing its crate, determined to do something more than growl in frustration but unable. “That’s bullshit. What kind of spineless fuckers would—" He stilled, jaw setting. “I bet it was those fuckers. Walt and Roy. I bet that, fuck, after I decked him!” Dean’s whole being vibrated under the weight of his outrage.

 

 “I told the investigator as much, but as far as I know there is little to no evidence. It isn’t like anyone around here has security cameras.” Castiel shrugged, already resigning himself to the very real possibility that whoever had burned his house to a shell would probably get away with it.

 

That didn’t do anything to quell Dean’s energy, and only sheer force of will brought Dean back to the present problem. “That doesn’t answer my question, though.”

 

Castiel blanched, knowing he’d deflected once again. ”I know. Everything made me think. Is this… Really what you want? Because who knows if it will get worse. It might. I know I haven’t lived all my life out, but I know that people can be unnecessarily cruel.”

 

To his surprise, Dean snorted a dry laugh. ”You don’t think I know that? Hell Cas, my dad would have probably cheered on whoever lit a match to your house.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck now that he was still, needing some kind of grounding force. Dean liked physical comfort, it was something about him that Castiel had noticed almost immediately with the pats to his shoulder or the cuffs. Dean liked to _touch_.

 

”Cas, I wasn’t the one that bolted after this. You did.”

 

 The realization shouldn’t take Castiel by surprise, but it did. He’d retreated the moment he thought things would crumble, using the state of his home as a guise. It was believable that he’d be upset, but he’d been unfair with how he’d treated Dean the past week when Dean had only done his best to help. Castiel hadn’t been the only one affected by this, and he hadn’t considered what was outside of his scope this entire time.

 

“I… did, didn’t I?” Castiel sagged. “I can only apologize again, Dean. I don’t want to end this, I don’t. I’m just... terrified. I never expected to find anyone I genuinely liked around here until my brother and sister grew up, and I suppose I don’t know what to do with it.”

 

Dean looked a little mollified, but there was still a small frown curling his lips. “I didn’t expect to come out either. I’m—pretty scared shitless too, Cas. But I don’t want to let the fear that these assholes around here are going to one-eighty on me run my life anymore. If people want to be douchebags, fine. We can flip ‘em off together.”

 

A thin laugh shook Castiel’s chest, and he bobbed his head in a slow nod. “I like the sound of that. Deal.”

 

“You okay though? No offense, man, but you look like a zombie.” Dean reached out to thumb one of the prominent dark circles that clung to Castiel’s eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and Castiel knew it.

 

“I’m fine, just tired. Gabriel and Kali are a little more… spirited than I’m used to out of my surroundings, and my siblings have been video messaging every night and, it’s just more than me, or Honeybee, are used to.”  Castiel leaned into the touch, soaking up the warmth of Dean’s hand as it flattened against his cheek.

 

Dean chuckled, touch smoothing against Castiel’s cheek to pet him like an attention starved housecat. ” You could have called me you know. Why not stay the night with me and Bones? Bones is good with cats. Only noise around is the cows and the chickens.” And his radio, but for Cas, Dean would turn it down.

 

Castiel’s eyes lit up, despite his hesitance, “Is that alright? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

 

Laughing, Dean tugged him into a one-armed embraced.” Yes Cas, it’s fine. You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, remember? Besides, you owe me. You snuck out of bed last time.”

 

Castiel pouted, reaching to pinch Dean in the side.” That was when I was sure you would kick me _out_ of it! But I suppose last time, we were interrupted as well.” He smirked, leaning into the warmth of Dean’s side with a grateful sigh. ” Thank you, Dean, I promise we won’t be a bother."

 

“I’m getting a resident veterinarian on call, I’m pretty sure I’m the one winning here.” Dean teased, leaning to rest his forehead in the chaos of Castiel’s dark hair. It was endearing to anyone driving by, but Castiel could feel the thread of possessiveness within the gesture. Knowing that his ex-‘friends’ might be behind burning down his new boyfriend’s house wasn’t sitting well in Dean. Castiel didn’t need to be a psychiatrist to figure that out.

 

Castiel let Dean linger as long as he needed to, waiting until he could feel the tension ease out of Dean’s touch. ” If you’re not busy, we can go to the market before I get my things? The least I could do is cook dinner.” The smile that light up Dean’s face calmed the knot of tension in his chest.

 

“Deal, but I’m making dessert. I’m thinking cherry pie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write
> 
> And of course go to: https://space-wolf.com/ for beautiful art!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's unexpected visit puts a small hiccup in the new couple's brief foray into sharing space.

“I didn’t expect you to be a 'Great British Bakeoff' kind of man.”

 

“Hatin’, Cas?”

 

It was a dozy morning, where the morning sun streamed a dull glow through the open windows. The temperature was still dewy enough not to warm the house, and Honeybee was enjoying lounging on the sun-shelf Dean had installed for her day before yesterday.

 

It had been almost a month since Dean first invited him to stay the night, and more often than not, that’s exactly what he did. He spent some nights at Gabriel’s, but Dean coaxed him back every time. Dean had graciously offered to keep Honeybee for him since Bones and the cat got along well and it was less traumatic than carting the poor cat back and forth.

 

Truthfully, Castiel wasn’t sure what he would have done without Dean this past month.

 

The insurance claim was slow going, but at least he’d been able to browse around town to try and find a new home. Nothing felt right. Either they were too far away from work, needed too much elbow grease, or they just didn’t feel like _home_. Dean told him to take his time and not rush it.

 

“Jesus, your feet are cold,” Dean shifted, covering Castiel’s tucked feet with his thigh.

 

“Not everyone parades around in— “Castiel leaned, peering down at the socks of choice for the day, “—Scooby-doo socks.” He snickered, finding Dean’s collection of novelty socks ridiculously adorable. He’d been finding little quirks about the man out left and right. Dean’s habit of drinking directly out of the milk carton, however, was met with a long lecture about how many germs a human mouth contained and if he wanted buttermilk instead of milk tomorrow.

 

He supposed he shouldn’t nag, Dean took his habit of leaving half-empty coffee mugs around the house in stride.

 

“Don’t hate on the Doo, Cas,” Dean replied gravely, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth with a cheeky grin.

 

Shaking his head, Castiel huddled down a little further on the couch, slotting himself close to his boyfriend while they finished their lazy breakfast.

 

Somewhere around the bakers taking glistening Bundt cakes out of the ovens, a car door sounded outside. They didn’t think much of it, not when Dean’s workers came and went, but the sound of footsteps and a key in the lock perked their attention.

 

“Dean—You up?” Sam’s voice reached them before the tall student cleared the doorframe. He had a backpack over his shoulder and his messenger bag.

 

Dean sputtered against him, almost choking on the spoon dangling from his lips.  “S-Sammy, hey! What are you, you didn’t tell me you were coming.” Dean extracted himself from the couch, setting down nearly empty cereal bowl carelessly, a slosh of milk spilling on the hand-painted coffee table.

 

“Dean, you’re going to ruin your table.” Castiel groused, sliding out from the couch to press the edge of his pajama top to the table for lack of a napkin.

 

Sam’s brows were in his hairline. He paused, setting down his bag by the kitchen island, kneeling slowly down to greet Bones who was trying to climb his leg in her exuberance. “Hey, Castiel?” There was question in his voice. “And I thought I’d surprise you for the weekend, we got Monday off so I thought why not. Jo dropped me off from town.”

 

“Oh? That’s—cool, awesome.” Dean smiled, back-glancing at Castiel with a vague look of panic.

 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. He made his way into the kitchen to wash up the bowls, Honeybee padding after him to take roost on the island so she could inspect the newcomer.

 

“Did you get a cat?” Sam asked incredulously, reaching out to let Honeybee take a cursory sniff at his fingertips. Honeybee deigned Sam uninteresting and jumped down to swat at Bones' tail before taking off back to her sun shelf.

 

“Honeybee is mine,” Castiel answered.

 

Sam’s mouth opened but nothing managed to come out. He cast another lost glance at his brother, and that was the confirmation Castiel needed.

 

It had been nearly a month and for how close Dean said he and Sam were, Dean hadn’t told him. So much for living his life without fear.

 

“I’m going to work,” Castiel announced, sliding past the brothers to stomp up to the bedroom to get changed. Dean had coaxed him to sleep with him instead of the guest bedroom weeks ago. It felt like a step forward back then, but it only served to annoy him now.

 

“Cas, “Dean started when he returned to the main floor. At least Dean had the nerve to look guilty.

 

Castiel only glowered in return. ”Nice to see you again, Sam.” He wasn’t going to be rude to Sam just because he was annoyed with Dean.

 

“Yeah, same Castiel. Have a good day.” Sam raised a hand, watching helplessly as Castiel disappeared around the door.

 

Dean groaned, plopping back down on the couch with a huff. ”Fuck.”

 

“Soooo.” Sam started. He shuffled a little further inside, perching himself on a stool at the island. “Is Castiel your boyfriend?”

 

Dean jolted, leaning up from the couch as if someone had goaded him with a cattle prod.  "What? I mean, Shit, how did you...?” He chewed his lower lip, “Is that… a problem?”

 

He wasn’t expecting the rude snort out of his baby brother, or the snickering afterward like he was a slow on the uptake. “Are you serious, Dean? I’m happy for you!” Sam grinned.

 

“…You are?”

  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, sliding off the stool to walk over and deposit himself down next to his brother. “Of course, I am, Dean. It’s not like I didn’t know. Your obsession with Luke Duke was as bad as Daisy.” He smirked, reaching out to gently jostle Dean’s left arm. ” I just figured you weren’t, you know, out or anything. I didn’t want to push.”

 

A weight that Dean hadn’t been aware he’d been holding onto drifted away into nothingness. Since he’d asked Castiel out, he’d worried on how he was going to tell the one person whose opinion still mattered to him. Realistically, he knew Sammy wouldn’t be so narrow-minded to hold it against him, but he’d still _feared_. John Winchester hadn’t been a kind man when it came to people that society considered vagrant or immoral. They were raised with that since their mother, the more forgiving of the two, had died. Dean couldn’t help but worry shards of John might have tainted his baby brother’s otherwise genial nature. Foolish now that it was out in the open, but fear had a way of distorting reality.

 

“I wasn’t. Not until Cas.” Dean weakly smiled, looking at the door. ”Who is probably really fuckin’ pissed off at me after I told him I wasn’t going to be keeping this a secret.”

 

Now it was Sam’s turn to groan, ”Deannnn! How long have you been going out?!”

 

“Like a month and a half? It’s complicated.” Dean grumbled. He didn’t know if he should count the times they’d fooled around before they’d officially started going out or not. He’d like to.

 

“Uh-huh.” Rolling his eyes, Sam nudged Dean a little harder. ” Well, make it better. I want to actually _meet_ your boyfriend. I mean, I know I know Castiel, but like, _know him_ know him.”

 

Despite the situation, Dean grinned at hearing Sam call Castiel his boyfriend. They hadn’t thought going out until the police investigated more or the insurance got sorted was a good idea, so they’d been home-bodies lately. Not that Dean minded. But it still left Dean feeling that he hadn’t made good on letting everyone know Castiel was _his_. Hearing Sam say it made it real in ways that hadn’t felt as solid before.

 

“I will. I’ll text him, and before you bitch at me, I have to text him. It’s his surgery day and I don’t want him to worry about his phone ringing.” Dean was going to ignore the cooing from Sam as he went up to his bedroom to get changed for the workday. ” Get off your ass and go feed the chickens, college boy!” Snickering at the loud sigh left in his wake, Dean hoped that Castiel would hear him out. They’d existed alongside each other so well the past month that the idea that Castiel might get so mad at him that he wouldn’t stay anymore, well, He didn’t want to think about it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel’s phone was trying to migrate across the counter while he stripped off his gloves and tossed them in the trash. It was his last surgery for the morning and time for lunch, and Dean had been texting nearly all morning. Sighing, he snatched up the old phone and flipped it open to scroll through the messages.

 

He wasn’t going to even attempt to answer like this.

 

Parking himself at his desk, Castiel pressed ‘call’.

 

“Cas?” Dean answered after two rings. There was the sound of wind and quick footsteps as Dean stepped from outside into one of the barns.

 

“That was an enormous amount of texts.”

 

“I know, but you were in surgery, right? I didn’t want to call.”

 

That took a little of the self-righteous wind out of his sails. “Oh... That was… very considerate, thank you, Dean.” Castiel murmured, frowning softly. He didn’t want to be thanking Dean when he was still so angry at him. “Why didn’t your brother know about us?”

 

Dean sighed, shifting the phone from one ear to the next. ”Because I was being a dumbass. That’s it.” He wasn’t going to beat around the bush. Dean had seen Castiel at his most vulnerable, and now wasn’t the time to try and hide things.” It was stupid, I know. I knew Sam wouldn’t be a gay-hater or whatever, but, it still freaked me out, okay? I’m sorry.”

 

A slow, deep breath flowed from him, releasing the pent-up tension he’d been harboring all day. “I understand that Dean, I was nervous about telling Gabriel... I just wished I’d had a little warning.”

 

 

“I know, and totally my bad again.” Dean insisted, the sound of a door closing behind him momentarily diverting Dean’s attention. ”So, Does that mean you’re not pissed enough at me to join me and Sam for dinner? Cause, uh, you know I still have your cat… so...”

 

“Are you threatening to hold my cat hostage unless I forgive you, Dean Winchester?” Castiel tried for his best serious voice, but he couldn’t help but let the smile leak through.

 

“Desperate measures, Cas—“

 

“He’s full of shit! Come on, Cas! I want a do-over meeting my brother’s boyfriend!” Sam’s voice cut off Dean’s from somewhere in the background, close enough where he could yell over Dean’s shoulder.

 

Huffing a small laugh, Castiel slouched a little in his chair and tore off the top to his yogurt. "Alright, but you had better bribe me back in your favor with your burgers. I fear it’s the only thing that will properly assuage my outrage.”

 

“Dean Winchester’s famous burgers for his majesty, gotcha.” Came Dean’s cheeky reply, followed by a small gagging sound behind him. ”Shut up, Samantha, you asked for it. You’re going to get this and a whole lot more, so buckle-up, buttercup!”

 

“As much as I love being party to your wonderful sibling squabbles, I’m going to eat lunch, so I can get out of here in time for dinner. I’ll see you later.”

 

Logically, Castiel knew there was no reason to be nervous. He already knew Sam, if only slightly. Sam was obviously open-minded, but that didn’t mean Castiel was any less nervous. He’d never ‘met the family’ of his partners before aside from Meg’s parents, and he hardly counted that since they’d been raised in the same strict church. Not that any of it had ever stuck to Meg.

 

* * *

 

“Stay away from the stove, or so help me.” Dean was threatening Sam out of the kitchen when he opened the door. The view to the stove was one that would have Castiel sidling up behind Dean if they were alone. Seeing Dean in a t-shirt and jeans with his navy-blue apron tied around his sun-tanned body was distracting, to say the least.

 

 “Alright alright, jeez. I won’t touch your precious—Oh hey, Castiel.” Sam greeted, carrying silverware over to the breakfast nook to the left of the front door.

 

“Hello, Sam. Dean.” Castiel set down the six-pack he’d picked up on the way home, his own small apology for getting so angry this morning. He truly did understand Dean’s fears, but it had still stung.

 

Dean back-glanced over his shoulder as he plated the final burger. ”Hey babe, just in time.” He held out one of the plates with a grin, _“And_ sweet potato fries. Am I out of the doghouse?”

 

Castiel hummed in thought as he joined Dean briefly in the kitchen, accepting the plate and leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. ”You had me with the burger, but the fries are a nice addition.”

 

Being with Dean while Sam was there wasn’t nearly as awkward as Castiel had been anticipating. Sam had an effortless ease with Dean, even with the new situation, that dissipated Dean’s lingering anxiety. Now that Castiel could see Dean exist next to Sam with everything of who he was out in the air, he realized how much fear the man had been keeping tucked to his chest for so long. This made Dean glow from the inside out, radiant in his comfort.

 

“So, give me the details.” Sam prompted, pulling Castiel out of his doe-eyed stare.

 

“Details?”

 

“How’d you get together? You know, _details_.”

 

Castiel made it a point to leave out how he and Dean had first become ‘acquainted’ and summed it up with just the work detail, much to Dean’s relief. Open or not, regaling his baby brother with exploits of screwing out with Cas in the back of the barn wasn’t on Dean’s top list of fun dinner conversations.

 

When Castiel got to the part where his house had been nearly burned to cinders by a hate crime, Sam spilled his water. “ _What_?!” Sam snapped indignantly. ”Those—I can’t believe—! Did you report it? Wait, of course, you did, did you call the news? This might be Kansas but no one can just _do_ that! Are you sure it was Walt and Roy?” He peppered them with questions, all youthful fury.

 

“We’re pretty sure. But there was no evidence.” Castiel sighed, shrugging weakly.

 

Dean glowered into the remaining bite of his burger, ”I have half a mind to go over and confront them. Bet they’d piss themselves.” He growled around a mouthful.

 

“Gross, Dean, chew your food. But yeah, I wish. That’s insane. I mean I know people around here are still pretty backward with how they think but, you always kind of hope they’re not _that_ bad you know?” Sam sighed, looking a little younger and lost with the revelation that the town he’d largely grown up in was a darker now in his eyes.

 

Castiel quietly agreed, picking at his fries.

 

“So, are you staying here?” Sam pressed on, spirit not dampened for long.

 

“Yes, well, back and forth between here and Gabriel’s.”

 

Sam snorted, tossing a fry to Bones. “That’s silly, why split it up? Why not just move in with Dean? You’re dating right? What’s the rush in finding a new place?” He said it so effortlessly as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the table.

 

Dean stared at Sam while Castiel stared at Dean, and all the while Sam cooed down at Bones for her paw to feed her another French fry, a small smirk on his lips. The little bastard knew exactly what he’d done.

 

Dean swallowed, tugging at the bottom of his shirt and shifting in his seat. “I-I uh. I mean I thought about it you know. But I didn’t want to be that weird guy that just says, ‘Hey move in with me’ right after we started dating.” He mumbled, cheeks a brush fire red.” Thought you’d think I was… I dunno, clingy or something.”

 

“You, really wanted to ask me?” Castiel asked dumbly.

 

“I wanted to pull you into the car and take you home the night of the fire, but I figured you needed your brother. But, yeah. This month has been—“ Dean cast a self-conscious glance over at his brother, a flicker of ‘fuck it’ passing over his face with a small shrug. "It’s kicked ass.”

 

The day had been one of highs and lows, but this was Mount Everest. “I would… like that very much.” That was an understatement and a half, but the smile splitting his face was enough to tell Dean that.

 

“Awesome.” Dean breathed, eyes locking with his own as they took a moment to just drink in the moment.

 

Castiel didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, Sam piped up with a quiet sound of disgust. ”Okay, that’s it. I’m going to my room _with_ headphones.” He stood, snatching a small handful of fries to bribe Bones to trail along after him. ” I’m taking Bones! There’s no telling what you’ve made my poor dog witness!”

 

“About time,” Dean smirked, standing from the table to reach out and pull Cas up after him. Their lips met with a soft moan, hands exploring slow and purposefully. “How about we leave the dishes for the morning and we go up to m— _our_ room?” Dean purred against his lips.

 

Warmth rushed through him, dizzying in its intensity. ” Yes,” Castiel replied breathlessly. Dean had said _our_ _room_. ”Take me upstairs, Dean.” Normally he’d refuse to leave food out where Honeybee could get it, but there was nothing out that could make her sick. He’d deal with the chances of an upset kitty stomach later.

 

There was a lot of careful negotiation to get up the stairs while trying not to part, but they managed, eventually.  Castiel’s back hit the bed, and Dean was on him, kissing up his stomach while tugging the hem of his shirt slowly up the line of his body. Castiel sighed into the press of lips, rolling his hips up to brush his growing interest against Dean’s.

 

“How do you want this, Cas? I’ll give you anything.” Dean promised, tongue snaking out to capture a dusky nipple.

 

Arching, Castiel pawed for Dean’s shirt in return. ”Take me tonight, Dean.” He begged, wanting Dean to give him that. To make him feel at home.

 

Dean’s breath stuttered against his skin, “Fuck yes, Cas. I want to hear you.” A promising heat was in his voice. Castiel hoped Sam had decent headphones because he intended to give Dean what he wanted just as much as Dean wanted to screw him into the bed.

 

It was a flurry of wants and needs. Rushed and deep. But it was everything Castiel wanted. When Dean first entered him, Castiel fisted the bedsheets with a shuddered sigh of completion. He’d wanted Dean to possess him in the way he’d come to love possessing Dean this past month. He wanted to belong in Dean’s arms, quake apart, and sate himself in all of him.

 

“Dean.” He moaned, locking his arms around Dean’s shoulders and tugging him down until he could kiss the man breathless.

 

“Does it feel good, Cas?” Dean breath’s trembled as he drove deeper, burying himself to the hilt. The wet sound of Dean entering him clenched at Castiel’s groin, pulling another sighed moan from him.

 

“Y-yes. Yes, Dean.” Their lips didn’t part, even if it made the pace less bruising than they might have wanted, neither of them wanted to give up the extra point of connection.

 

“God, I’ve never seen you… like this. You’re perfect.” Dean was always lavish with his praise or dirty talk, but Castiel hadn’t been on the receiving end of this kind before. Dean muttered quiet devotions against his lips and cheeks, peppering him with kisses until his body burned under the weight of Dean’s affection. “So fucking beautiful.”

 

“Dean!” Castiel shouted when Dean surged up against him once more.

 

“That’s it, come for me, Cas. I want to see you.” Dean urged, reaching up to tangle a hand through a fistful of Castiel’s hair and kissing into the line of his bared neck.

 

Castiel came apart, whimpering into Dean’s hold as he twitched and moaned through the hard pulses of ecstasy that tore through him.

 

Dean leaned up to watch every moment, verdant pools suspended above him, trapping him in the strength of their attention. Dean adjusted their position, hands curling into the flesh of Castiel’s thighs as he rutted into his boyfriend to chase his own high.

 

It didn’t take long for Dean to fall after him, sweat-slick body locking up as he emptied into the searing warmth of Castiel’s body. Dean was beautiful above him, and as soon as he could, Castiel pulled Dean down after him to intertwine their limbs until every bit of skin that could touch was flush.

 

Hours later, windows thrown open and the quiet sound of crickets wafting into the bedroom, they lay in each other’s arms. Castiel traced lazy circles against the freckles of Dean’s chest, breathing the scent of freshly showered skin.

 

“I suppose I’ll have to commute. But this way I can renovate a bit of the clinic, I suppose.”

 

“I can help. I did this place mostly myself.” Dean mumbled, reaching down to tangle his fingers with Castiel’s.

 

Castiel nodded, resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll have to introduce you to Samandriel and Muriel. They’ll like you.” His little brother and sister were still getting used to broadening their horizons outside of their mother’s bigoted views, but they were eager to break out of their shells. Castiel wasn’t worried that the remains of his family would be anything but happy for him.

 

They wouldn’t be able to say the same for the town, their customers, or god knows who else, but that was alright. They wouldn’t need the approval of anyone that would spit at them. They had their friends, what family that counted, and each other.

 

That was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write
> 
> And of course go to: https://space-wolf.com/ for beautiful art!

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write
> 
> And of course go to: https://space-wolf.com/ for beautiful art!


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